


Contingency Plan

by slytherinski



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (kinda slow burn tbh), Asgard, Avengers Family, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Bottom Tony Stark, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Dom Loki (Marvel), Dom/sub Play, Domestic Avengers, Endgame Fix-It, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Fix-It, Frigga is the best mom, FrostIron - Freeform, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Light BDSM, Loki & Thor Friendship (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Redemption, M/M, Marvel Norse Lore, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Tony Stark, Protective Avengers, Rough Sex, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Sub Tony Stark, Time Travel, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Top Loki (Marvel), Unresolved Sexual Tension, bc this is my version and i said fuck mcu!clint lives, clint sacrifices himself on vormir instead of nat, space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 118,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinski/pseuds/slytherinski
Summary: There’s so much chaos happening what with Past Him still seizing on the floor due to the cardiac dysrhythmia, everyone’s attention diverted away from the Infinity Stone they had been fighting over moments before. Well, the attention of all but one other person.Tony has made a lot of rash decisions that have led to less than appealing results in his time. Mistakes were something he had in spades. Even though he prided himself with thinking on his feet and making a quick judgement call when needed, he didn’t always get it right the first time around.This, unfortunately, is one of those times.





	1. A Means To An End

**Author's Note:**

> To my muse, North. Thank you for being the Loki to my Tony for all these years.

Tony has made a lot of rash decisions that have led to less than appealing results in his time. Mistakes were something he had in spades. Even though he prided himself with thinking on his feet and making a quick judgement call when needed, he didn’t always get it right the first time around.

This, unfortunately, is one of those times.

Still dazed and reeling from his unexpected run-in with 2012 Hulk, Tony rolls onto his side to watch the briefcase go skittering across the lobby floor. Luckily enough, the SHIELD riot gear he had appropriated wasn’t just for show, the padding and helmet saving him from further harm. The wind is still knocked out of him though, and he isn’t as young as he used to be as he struggles to get to his feet.

The latches come loose on the case, that damned, glowing cube flying out and bouncing across the tile. There’s so much chaos happening what with Past Him still seizing on the floor due to the cardiac dysrhythmia, everyone’s attention diverted away from the infinity stone they had been fighting over moments before.

Well, the attention of all but  _ one  _ other person.

He watches as the stone skids to a stop against Loki’s leather boot, the chained god staring down at it with a bewildered expression (as bewildered as he can look with half his face obscured by the muzzle Thor had locked him into) as if he can’t believe his luck. Tony doesn’t blame him.

_ What are the fucking odds? _

Tony fails to do what he normally does best in that moment; He doesn’t think. The consequences of his actions are the furthest thing from his mind as he summons the strength to run forward, stumbling over his own feet as he hauls ass to get to the stone. He’s not sure what his plan is, probably because it’s nonexistent. All he knows is that if Loki gets away with the stone, it will mean catastrophe for this timeline and his own. He’s still a good twenty feet away from where Loki is standing, so there’s no way he’ll get to it first when it’s sitting right at the man’s feet.

He tries to yell something.  _ Wait!, Stop!, _ or some other equally useless command, but it gets caught in his throat amidst his panic to act. He lunges forward, Loki now clutching the cube in his shackled hands. Maybe he can knock it free from his grasp— Wrestle it from his hands—  _ Something _ .

They lock eyes as Tony collides with him, hands seizing him by the front of his leather armor. Loki’s eyes widen in surprise, having been so enthralled by the Infinity Stone so casually thrown at his feet that he hadn’t even noticed the “SHIELD guard” make a break for him. The expression changes in a split second, dark eyebrows drawing back down, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It’s enough for Tony to know that underneath the restraints lies a wicked grin that says  _ I’ve won _ .

Before Tony can even attempt to act further, smoky blue tendrils appear out of nowhere and darkness swallows them whole. A chill races down his spine, his heart jumping to his throat before dropping to the pit of his stomach, akin to the feeling of that first drop on a roller coaster, or like all the times he had plummeted towards the earth with no safety net in place.

All he can do is hold on, knuckles white with the effort as he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the weightless sensation to end. It’s over so quickly it’s damn near anticlimactic, Tony feeling his feet connect with solid ground, light piercing through his eyelids. He cracks one eye open, the relief of no longer being surrounded by starry blackness— something he had the misfortune of experiencing a few too many times by this point— lasting only a split second before he’s sent flying through the air.

He hits the ground, landing on his back against a hard, unforgiving surface for the second time now in the past two minutes. The impact causes a red-tinted dust cloud to envelop him, particles of it invading his lungs and leaving him a prone, coughing mess. He pushes himself up onto his elbows as Loki’s shadowy figure steps through the settling dirt haze, towering menacingly above him.

Loki grasping him by the throat and hoisting him into the air is probably a sense of deja vu for the god. Tony himself is removed from the traumatizing experience by about a decade now, currently grateful they aren’t a hundred stories up surrounded by glass windows for him to be flung out of. He clutches Loki’s arm with both of his hands, feet barely able to touch the ground only because the chains keep the long-limbed god from full mobility. Loki drags Tony close to him, their noses practically touching. He recognizes the look in Loki’s eyes— crazed on his own power trip, high on the fact that even chained up like a prisoner he could do all this and  _ more _ . Not only did he escape from whatever punishment he was to face when Thor got him back home, but he did so with the possession of one of the Infinity Stones, and a mortal plaything he can toss around like a rag doll.

Tony doesn’t show weakness or fear. Maybe Loki got a kick out of seeing the 2012 version of him with panic in his eyes, flailing around helplessly while he waited for his suit to deploy, but things are different now. This Tony has fought against an ancient  _ Titan _ to the point of nearly dying. A mad mischief god with a penchant for hissy fits when he doesn’t get enough attention is nothing.

He’s just about to summon the nanomachines to form a repulsor beam over his chest just so he can show Loki how far he’s really come since their last encounter when the grip loosens. Tony gasps out for air on instinct, his fingers tightening around Loki’s forearm. He’s pushed back a couple of inches, something in Loki’s gaze changing. Green eyes flicker across his face, seemingly taking him in. Only then does Tony realize the headgear he had been wearing was knocked off when Loki had thrown him, face no longer obscured by the helmet and goggles.

Slowly, he’s lowered back to the ground. Loki’s hand moves from crushing his windpipe to instead grabbing the cloth cowl still wrapped around his head, pulling it loose to completely expose his identity. Long fingers then grab him by the jaw, digits digging sharply into his cheeks as he turns Tony’s face this way and that, seemingly examining him with that same, unreadable look in his eyes.

Tony stares back, unwavering as those insane, green eyes dart all around his face before settling back on eye contact. The fact that Loki’s eyes are the  _ only _ things he can see is mildly terrifying, especially when that intense gaze holds such a…  _ knowing _ look. Did he connect the dots that quickly? Why isn’t he more thrown off by the fact that he had just watched Tony Stark convulsing on the floor moments before, and now that same man was suddenly here with him, wherever  _ here _ was?

“Cat got... your tongue?” Tony manages to grit between his teeth, face still being held tightly in the god’s hand.

That comment is enough to bring the rage back. Loki releases him only for his hand to come back around in a quick flash, backhanding Tony across the face and sending him staggering several feet to the side. He manages to keep his footing, but his mouth is now full of blood and his jaw  _ aches _ . He holds the side of his face as he straightens back up, spitting the iron tang onto the ground. “Alright then,” he grunts, licking some of the blood off his teeth. He grabs the thick Velcro straps of the riot armor, removing the bulky material so that he's left in the SHIELD uniform underneath. “This ass beating is about ten years overdue.”

Within seconds, the Bleeding Edge armor forms around him in its entirety, the HUD lighting up and automatically zooming in on the sole target in front of him. He’s pleased with the shock on Loki’s face and wastes no time in firing a beam of energy directly from his chest.

It’s Loki’s turn to get knocked back now, the unibeam sending the god flying across the red-orange earth, his body rolling down a slight slope and landing with a resounding crack against a large boulder. Tony approaches him slowly, finally taking the opportunity to take in their surroundings. He has absolutely no idea where they are, his scanner on the fritz as his programs try and collect information on their location with no avail. “Friday, you there?” Tony asks, receiving no response. Probably not on Earth anymore, then.

The nanobots retreat from around his head, giving him the freedom to look around and take in the scenery. It looked to be some kind of dried out wasteland, the land fairly flat, a craggy silhouette of some mountains in the distance. There are no other discernible landmarks, no wildlife or plants that he can see, just a few clusters of rocks and boulders around them. The earth is dry and cracked beneath his feet, color of rich crimson with the sky an adjacent shade of orange. It’s like being in the middle of a blinding sunset, but Tony can see no source of light from anywhere above.

He turns his attention back towards Loki who is getting to his feet, flipping his ridiculous raven locks back away from his face as he tries to hold himself like a man who wasn’t just flung through the air several yards. He can see the annoyance written across his furrowed brow, hands clenched in tight fists in front of him. Tony kicks himself into flight mode, rocketing towards him to close the last few feet of distance. His gauntleted hands grasp Loki by the criss-crossed straps of his armor and slam him into the ground.

And Loki just… takes it. Tony holds him firmly in place and shoots forward, thrusters sending him rocketing over the surface of the ground, all the while dragging the god through the earth. The ground cracks further beneath his back as he makes a nice, Loki-sized trench in the earth, eventually coming to a stop. He kneels down on top of the man, heavily-armored knee pressing down hard on Loki’s chest. He hears a very soft wheeze, the type of sound that one tries to keep hidden in the back of their throat. The bruises and cuts are still visible on his face from his little run in with Bruce. He can’t be feeling good after getting slammed around by the Hulk, and that’s exactly what Tony is counting on.

He leans down over Loki, putting more of his weight down onto him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you can’t talk.” Loki continues to stare coldly at him, unmoved. Tony clenches his jaw. “Where the fuck did you bring me?”

Loki’s eyes are lidded as he stares at Tony, looks down at his muzzle, makes eye contact again, and just rolls his eyes. Alright, Tony doesn’t know exactly why he bothered to ask either.

He leans away and raises a hand to Loki’s face, annoyed that the god doesn’t even flinch by the hum of energy charging up in the palm of his gauntlet. Despite being pinned, Loki manages to twist to the side and bring up a leg, knocking Tony off of him.

Tony easily catches himself as he rolls off to the side. Clearly Loki’s got more fight in him than he gave him credit for. Slippery bastard. Quick as a cat, Loki lunges for him, hands swinging up and over Tony’s head before he can realize what the god’s intention is. The chains of his cuffs suddenly tighten around his neck, Loki twisting him into a headlock. The nanobots immediately rush to his aid, thickening the defenses around Tony’s throat so he can’t be so easily strangled this time. Loki’s got himself plastered against his back in an attempt to keep a hold on him, which is just another mistake.

“Oh, so you wanna go for a ride then?” Tony asks before kicking on the thrusters again. He feels his back panels open up as well to assist with the flight, launching up into the sky at breakneck speed. He feels Loki’s grip tighten around him, no longer in an attempt to strangle, but to just hold on as they fly up, higher and higher.

Tony manages to twist around just enough to crack his armored elbow right against Loki’s nose, feeling the weight on his back suddenly leave him thanks to the stunning blow. It’s poetic justice, really, watching Loki go hurtling towards the ground from hundreds of feet up in the air. He clearly can take a fair amount of abuse, and after years of friendship with Thor, he knows that a fall like that won’t even come close to killing the Asgardian. Maybe the sick, twisted part of Tony wants him to experience that same fear he felt back in 2012.

But then there’s a flash, and suddenly Tony is back in Berlin, watching his best friend get shot out of the sky, his tiny shape streaking back down towards the ground in the distance. He hadn’t been fast enough.

“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath before kicking his thrusters up to Mach 8 and making a completely vertical dive to chase the helpless villain. His goodness surprises even him sometimes.

Loki tumbles end-over-end, the vibrant earth growing closer as Tony closes the distance between them. He catches Loki by the ankle at the last second, bringing his fall to a halt as he makes a sharp turn to not be a meteor himself, barely skimming the ground as he rights himself again. He lets go once they’re in the clear, Loki hitting the ground and rolling another fair distance before his body goes limp again.

The once intimidating figure looks ridiculous now, limbs at an awkward angle, arms trapped under him thanks to the chains he’s bound in. His emerald cape is tattered and pulled up over his head, Tony unable to hold back the smile as the man slowly gets to his feet, awkwardly trying to find his way out of the heavy material. He’s got fresh blood smeared along the seam of his muzzle, dripping from his nose. His glare is no less murderous than before as he stares defiantly at Tony, straightening his shoulders the best he can. Tony stays hovering a few feet off the ground, needing the added insult to Loki’s ego that he was the one being looked down upon now.

They both stare at each other, waiting for the other to strike. Tony isn’t quite ready to let his guard down, even with the man looking beat to shit. He’s a trickster, after all, and he had already gotten the jump on Tony once now. He watches critically as Loki holds his hands up in mock surrender, palms open and fingers spread apart. With a subdued flourish, he twists his wrists much like a street magician attempting to distract the eye, the glowing cube suddenly reappearing in his hands.

Tony’s entire body tenses like a coil, ready to release the  _ instant _ Loki attempts to use it again so he can stop him. That moment doesn’t come. Tony’s eyes flicker from the Tessaract up to Loki’s face. The trickster arches a single eyebrow at him, lifting his chin slightly. He doesn’t need to say a word for Tony to understand exactly what he’s thinking.

Loki can use the cube right now and leave him here. Abandon him on some foreign planet in some solar system billions of light years away from any chance of him returning home. Tony only managed to hitchhike through the wormhole because he caught Loki by surprise back in New York. Loki could be gone in a single snap, and even if he tried to grab on again, who’s to say he couldn’t dislodge him while they moved through the fabric of space and leave him floating in some inter dimensional rift? It’s his greatest fear in more ways than one, trapped in the void with no way he would ever see his loved ones again.

He’d never get home to Morgan.

The thought alone ignites a fire inside of him, the flame extinguished within an instant as Loki makes another hand gesture. The Tesseract is gone. Tony can’t stop the flicker of surprise from taking over his furious expression. He’s  _ fucking _ with him.  _ Again _ . Cruelly teasing the idea that he would do such a thing, reminding him that no matter what he tries, Loki still holds all of the power. Tony doesn’t take kindly to being outsmarted, and he’s starting to get the feeling that this deranged demigod feels the same way.

So this is it. Mission failure. Steve, Bruce, and Scott are probably back on Earth wondering what the hell they’re supposed to do now, and where Tony could even be. No Space Stone to bring back to their present timeline, no chance at seeing his own Infinity Gauntlet come together, no bringing everyone back, no beating Thanos at his own game. It’s like the Snap all over again, and this time Tony doesn’t even have Blue Meanie to keep him company. All he has is a psychopathic god who will revel in watching him wither away to nothing in this unknown wasteland.

Tony didn’t ever think he would feel more hopeless than he did when the Kid turned to dust in his hands, begging for his life and apologizing like he was somehow at fault for any of it. His parents death? Afghanistan? Cap leaving him for dead in Siberia? It hardly even compared. The oxygen deprivation and slowly starving to death on the spaceship had been painful, sure, but it was a slow descent into an inevitability Tony knew was coming. He certainly can’t hold out hope for another Danvers Ex Machina in this situation.

He’ll have to do what he always does best.

He turns off the thrusters, dropping the last couple of feet out of the air and onto the ground in front of Loki. He taps the center of his chest twice, the nanobots retreating into their housing unit now that the imminent threat is gone. He takes a few steps forward, now approaching Loki as nothing more but a mere mortal, hands turned upward to show he means no harm. His brain works quickly, ruling out the possibility that he’ll be able to walk away with the Tesseract in his possession. That’s fine, they can find another way. More Pym Particles, maybe? Travel to a different time period to try and steal  _ that  _ Space Stone instead? They know when and where it’s in SHIELD’s possession so… It would be difficult, but not  _ impossible _ . So all he really needs to do is convince Loki to warp back to Earth, drop him off, and then he could be on his merry way. The kind of havoc he can wreak with the Infinity Stone doesn’t exactly sit right with Tony, but they have enough cataclysmic disasters to deal with in his own timeline, what’s a few more spread across the multiverse?

“Keep the stone,” Tony starts carefully, still slowly making his way closer. “You nabbed it fair and square, it’s all yours. I just need you to take me back to New York. Just drop me off there and I won’t tell a soul where you went— Not like I would know, anyway. I don’t even know where we are now,” he glances around the wasteland. That’s right, he’s just a helpless little mortal, no threat to a god and his many plans of chaos. “I’ll do whatever you want, just… just take me back.”

He can’t get a read on whether or not his plea is making any sort of impact, Loki’s desolate gaze shrouded with suspicion as he continues his slow approach. Loki lifts his bound hands, pointing at the restraint still locked in place over his mouth.

“I can get that off,” Tony nods, still holding his hands up. “But no funny business, okay?” A little redundant to ask of a trickster god, but he nods all the same and lets Tony closer to examine it.

It seems to be some kind of Asgardian metal, Tony vaguely familiar with it after Thor had brought him a few weapons and other raw materials from his home plane a few times over the years, allowing him to tinker and experiment with it to his heart’s desire. Tony carefully lifts a hand, the metal cool to touch and thrumming with some kind of unseen power. He’s shorter than Loki by a fair amount, able to see the underside and feel along for any seams. He feels Loki’s eyes on him the entire time, strangely intimate as his fingers glance along the sharp line of his jaw, gently tilting his head to the side so he can see where the mechanism loops behind his ear. He pushes dark locks of hair back over his shoulder, seeing what could possibly be some kind of latch. It isn’t as simple as a keyhole he could attempt to shimmy a lockpick into, but the metal here is silver, discolored slightly from the rest, and as Tony’s finger runs along the small grove in the metal, it glows with some kind of symbol.

“Is it magic?” Tony asks, eyes flickering back to Loki’s. Another small nod. Tony frowns and tilts his head the opposite way, feeling along that side to see if there was any other way to get it off. The thing is air tight, and he actually has no idea if he’s going to be able to remove it. “Alright just… hold still.”

He raises up his hand, pointing a finger at where the dark metal meets the silver lock. The nanobots are summoned forth, forming a small laser right along his index finger. The beam of hot red light connects with the metal, Loki doing his best to stand as still as possible, flinching only slightly when some of the little embers flick against his skin. The tendons of his neck are pulled taut as Tony tries to drill away at a single point, the metal beginning to heat under the pressure. After a few seconds, Loki finally yanks himself away, hand raising to cover the side of his face.

“Sorry,” Tony mumbles, not feeling very bad at all. This guy had been threatening to abandon him a few minutes earlier, he can deal with the equivalent of burning himself on the stove. Loki doesn’t seem very hurt, but he keeps his back turned to Tony for a few more seconds, hands still raised to one cheek. He eventually turns to face him again, determinedly walking back over and turning his head again so Tony can get a good look at the device once more.  _ Try again _ , his eyes demand.

Tony peers closely at the metal, completely unblemished. So it was a magically sealed gag made out of an impenetrable metal, but Tony knew better than to think anything was truly impenetrable. Anything could break given enough pressure, and Tony had ways to apply that.

“This is going to feel a little strange but... just trust me,” Tony says. That earns him an eye roll, but the god stays perfectly still. Tony sighs and calls the nanomachines back. The only other noticeable seam is right across the center of the mouth where the pieces interlock together like a large zipper. Using his mental link with the suit, he has the microscopic machines slip between the small space between Loki’s skin and the muzzle, finding their way into any tiny gap or groove with the sole intent on building themselves up to break the device open. It takes a few seconds, Tony holding Loki’s face and concentrating, watching as the god’s thin brows draw together when he starts to feel the odd sensation of these tiny, almost undetectable machines probably running all over his mouth.

The metal gives a small creak, Tony’s eyes lighting up in satisfaction. He can feel the device start to tremble beneath his hands, and barely has time to jump back before there’s a loud crack. The nanobots force the clamp apart, the metal falling away from his face.

Despite snapping in half, suddenly the metal changes shape, not falling to the ground in two pieces as Tony expects, but rather melding itself back together and suddenly snapping back into place against Loki’s throat, the man letting out a choked sound as it closes back around his neck. His pale hand flies up to touch the now-choker, digging his fingers against it to try and pry it off to no avail. A hissed word that is probably some kind of Asgardian swear escapes from his gritted teeth.

“At least you can talk now, right?” Tony asks.

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say in that moment. Tony is remarkably good at that. Loki’s expression is a lot more terrifying now that he can see the sadistic twist to his mouth, no longer hidden behind the metal restraint. He takes a few threatening steps forward, but Tony can see clearly now that he looks exhausted. There’s sweat beading along his brow, pale hands trembling where they hang down in front of his form, contrasting sharply with the dark leathers of his armor.

“Who are you?” Loki asks in a low voice, taking a few slightly off-kilter steps closer. “You’re not the Iron Man I just fought… You’re… different,” he licks some dried blood from his thin lips, eyes narrowing further. “He certainly didn’t use magic to summon that primitive suit of his.”

He takes offense to that comment, even though his suits had gotten more advanced in the past decade. 

“A shapeshifter, perhaps?” Loki continues, now circling Tony with a slight limp, giving him a onceover. “Amora, if that’s you, I thought we had a deal… Unless you’re some lackey sent by her or Lorelei…”

“I’m not a shapeshifter,” Tony glares, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m Tony Stark, same one you chucked out my own damn window. I’m from the year 2023, eleven years in the future.” He doesn’t see the point in trying to lie about his identity; He just won’t give Loki all the details of their mission.

Loki seems to accept this answer, nodding to himself as he comes to a stop in front of Tony, examining his face again. “You  _ do _ appear older, at least as far as mortal standards go.” Before he can stop him, Loki grabs him by the chin and pulls him closer, turning his face this way and that before staring into his eyes. “Yes, you are Tony Stark… and your story about being from the future is  _ almost _ believable. What were you doing in this timeline? Your little ragtag bunch of heroes really shouldn’t be poking around in time travel… You have no idea what could happen if you do...”

He’s so fucking smarmy Tony wants to deck him in the face for it. He pushes Loki’s hands off him, raising his chin defiantly. “That’s none of your business. I did what you asked, I got that  _ thing _ off your mouth, so just… take me back.”

“I didn’t  _ ask _ anything,” Loki corrects. “And you’ve hardly done anything of note considering this  _ thing _ is still around my neck and that the magic-dampening seal is still in tact,” he spits angrily, chains jangling as he points angrily at the metal collar. “I won’t be taking you  _ anywhere _ , Tony Stark. How can I know that as soon as we teleport back, you don’t have your allies there in wait, ready to imprison me the minute our feet touch Midgardian soil? Perhaps that is what you came back in time for. Why else did you try and stop me from teleporting away in the first place?”

The accusations probably made sense to Loki, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. “This has  _ nothing _ to do with you, you  _ egotistical asshat _ . Just take me  _ back _ !” He shoves angrily at Loki’s chest, the god taking a single step back before he grabs Tony’s wrists, squeezing them hard. He doesn’t stand down. “I don’t give a shit about what you do afterwards. Travel the entire galaxy, collect some postcards, vacation across a million different universes for all I care— You don’t need  _ me _ for any of that. Just take me back to New York, damnit!”

Loki seems to relish in his urgency, lips spreading into a cruel grin. “My, my, you’re quite desperate for me to return you. What kind of dire straits does the future hold for you pathetic little do-gooders?”

Tony then remembers why it was that this Loki was bringing a Chitauri army to Earth in the first place. He hadn’t been acting alone. “Thanos,” Tony hisses.

Loki physically recoils from him, dropping his wrists in surprise. The shock is quickly wiped from his face, not quite indifferent, but cold— resigned. “In that case, you should be thanking me for taking you away. If Thanos has come for you, then there’s no hope for your future. You’re all as good as dead.”

_ It’s that attitude that probably got you killed _ , Tony wants to say, but doesn’t dare voice it out loud.

He clenches his jaw, figuring he has nothing to lose. "Thanos did come for us, and we killed him for it."

Green eyes snap to him, narrowed and skeptical. His lip curls upwards, nose wrinkling. "Impossible. I don't believe you."

“That doesn't matter. The point is, he really mucked things up and we're trying to fix it. But I can't do that if you don't take me back so we can finish what we started.”

Loki spares him a withering look, smiling at him like he was a naive child proposing an impossible idea. “Let’s say I entertain this idea that in your world, your timeline, you somehow killed the Mad Titan... that you will stand a chance against whatever he has done to ruin it all because I return you to complete whatever fool’s errand you were attempting to accomplish. How can you guarantee my safety beyond your  _ word _ ?”

Tony’s jaw clenches. “I guess I can’t.”

“Exactly,” Loki shrugs. “And you don’t live as many millennia as I do by trusting the word of every person you come across. I’m truly sorry you got yourself tangled up in this mess, but I have no interest in helping you, Man of Iron. It’s simply not in my best interest.”

And with that, Loki turns on a heel and strides away, the visual probably not as effective as he would like it as there’s a slight gait to each step, torn cape billowing behind him. Best interest, huh? Tony knows this type of asshole. As haughty as they tend to be, they’re all easily manipulated if you know which buttons to push. He needs to appeal to Loki’s self-preservation, and in this situation, it’s all too easy.

Loki hadn’t used his magic once during their little scrap just now, and it hadn’t been because he  _ wanted _ to hold back. From what Tony knows about the Infinity Stones, they aren’t exactly easy to control, even if Thanos had made it look effortless. He had commissioned that big ugly glove just to be able to wield them, and both the raccoon and Nebula had mentioned that using one took its toll on the body. He has no idea what kind of threshold an Asgardian has against the brute power of it, but Thor didn’t exactly seem eager to go around trying to collect them…

“You can’t even use it.”

Loki halts. His head turns ever so slightly, Tony able to see the sharp beginnings of his alabaster profile. “What was that?”

“You’re too weak to use the Tesseract again, and I bet you knew that. You only had one jump in you, so even if you wanted to, you won’t be going anywhere, not until you’re better… and without your magic, who knows how long that will take for your body to heal up? And why would you be scared to return to Earth? What kind of threat would the Avengers be to the safety of an all powerful magician? That is… Unless he isn’t able to use his powers because of some necklace.”

Loki whirls on him then.  _ Like clockwork _ . These villain types are so predictable. Tony can tell by the look in his eyes that he hit a nerve with that one. He doesn’t move any closer, so Tony starts to walk towards him again.

“I’m surprised a so-called  _ God _ isn’t able to use the Stones more than one time before being rendered  _ completely _ useless. You  _ are _ Asgardian, aren’t you?” he taunts.

“I am  _ not— _ ” Loki seems to stop himself from saying what he really wants to, jaw tightening. He forces the obvious frown into a pathetic attempt at a smile, trying to brush Tony’s comments off as nothing more than words. “Don’t pretend to know my intentions or my abilities, Anthony.”

He doesn’t like the use of his first name like that, but it doesn’t stop his pace, coming to a stop in front of the god. “Then prove me wrong. Use the Tesseract right now. Leave me here, totally stranded. You don’t even have the energy to summon it back to your hand, do you?”

Loki’s hand moves in a quick flash, but this time he’s not holding the glowing cube, but instead a razor-thin dagger with the tip pressed to Tony’s throat. His teeth are bared in a snarl, leaning close to him again. Tony can feel his warm breath across his face as he speaks, their chests almost touching. “ _ Hold your tongue _ . I would hate to have to cut it out.”

Just as quickly as Loki’s blade was drawn, the nanobots form a protective shield around his neck, ready to form more of his armor the instant he may need it. “This isn’t some random wasteland, is it? No, you would’ve come here for a reason, especially if you knew you couldn’t use the Stone a second time. There’s someone or something here that can help you…” His eyes flicker down to the magic-imbued collar. He remembers watching Thor clamp it onto him along with the matching cuffs. “You need to get that thing off to use your magic.”

He’s never seen someone look as simultaneously enraged and impressed as Loki is in that moment. “Well…” his voice shifted suddenly, rough and gravely where before it was smooth as glass. “You think yourself quite the clever man. Have it all figured out, do you?”

Tony swallows. “You tell me.”

They stay like that for a few more seconds before Loki leans away from him, sheathing the dagger somewhere on his hip. “You do seem... truly desperate. And I suppose you aren’t totally incapable anymore.” He gives him another look, eyes settling on the glow coming from the center of his chest. “As much as I hate to admit it… I’m in no state to be putting myself in danger right now, and I’m not yet sure what’s to come. You have a penchant for protecting the weak, yes? Accompany me. Once I have been restored to my full strength and capabilities, I will return you to wherever and  _ whenever  _ you please.”

Tony does his best to bite back a smile. For such a master manipulator, Loki sure is easily manipulated himself. The best way to get what you want is to plant a seed in someone else’s head and make them think they’re the ones to come up with the idea and give themselves the credit. “How do I know you won’t just use me again? What was it you were just saying about trusting a man’s word?”

Loki tilts his head thoughtfully to the side. “Well, at least you listen. I suppose you can’t take me for my word, but with the present circumstance, we are each other’s best chance at achieving a means to an end.”

Tony can’t argue with him there.  _ I can’t believe I’m striking a deal with the devil himself. If only the others could see me now _ . He holds a hand out.

Loki stares at it blankly for a few seconds. Tony rolls his eyes but doesn’t drop it away. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Reluctantly, Loki lifts his bound hands, chains jingling as he shakes Tony’s hand. It is brief and firm, both of them releasing at the same time. Loki sighs and looks back out to the mountain range barely visible in the distance. “We should stop wasting time. We’ll want to reach our destination before nightfall.

And with that he starts walking again, strides slightly shortened by his chains, but still significantly faster than Tony’s usual pace. He falls into step next to Loki, squinting out that the mountain range on the horizon. “So, uh, where are we, exactly?”

“Svartalfheim."

“Gesundheit.”

Loki flashes him a dry look. “It’s the realm of Dwarves. These restraints are made up of Svartalfheim metals. They’re impossible to break by any means other than the Dwarven tools that were used to construct them. While it will be nice to have full range of motion again, it’s the collar that I’m most concerned over,” he admits. “While their kind aren’t exactly savvy with magic, I’m hoping there’s someone in their midst who can take it off as well.”

So the collar is the real thing keeping Loki from his normal tricks. “How are you able to make the Tesseract disappear and reappear if you can’t use magic right now?”

“It’s… complicated,” Loki sighs, but decides to indulge him anyway. “I suppose I can attempt to explain it in simple enough terms for a mortal like you to understand—”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Tony interrupts. “I know it’s kind of your schtick to talk down to all of us just because you’re an ancient god with all sorts of knowledge and wisdom of the cosmos that you think we  _ Midgardians _ could never comprehend, but I’m going to let you know that I used to be just like you. Always thought I was the smartest guy in the room and that no one else could possibly be on my level. I may not know a ton about all this magic nonsense, but I’m pretty sure I could talk circles around you if we got on the topic of quantum mechanics and magnetohydrodynamics in astrophysics, so let’s just nip any of this smarter-than-thou bullshit in the bud, yeah?”

Loki actually halts his pace, blinking down at him. “Hm. I do have to say, if I was to be stuck with one mortal accompanying me, you might not be so bad.” He continues walking, Tony unable to get another quip in before he continues on. “This collar is designed to be a preventative measure, but not in the same way as a lock would be. It doesn’t prevent me from casting a spell or an illusion so much as… makes it very painful if I do so,” he cringes. “It dampens the wearer’s ability to use magic and leaves them in a weakened state in the process. If they continue to try to tap into their magical focuses, it could have long-lasting and detrimental effects on how they cast spells even after the collar is removed.”

Tony wonders if speaking about the suppressant in the third-person makes Loki feel any better. “So no wizard shit until you can get it off.”

Another sigh from the god. “If you insist on how I use language towards you in regards to these topics, then I demand the same courtesy. I am not a wizard, nor a warlock, nor a witch, nor a mage. I am a  _ sorcerer _ . I utilize magic in many different forms, but that is what I am, and that is what you will refer to me as.”

“You sound like Strange,” Tony scoffs under his breath.

“I’ll have you know it’s not strange at all to want to be addressed in the proper—”

“No, I meant—” he sighs. “Doctor Strange. He’s one of the Avengers later down the line and goes by Sorcerer Supreme or some shit. He gets real ornery about the magic titles too… I actually feel like you two would get along.” Now  _ that’s _ a terrifying thought.

Loki casts a sideways glance at him. “If he’s anything like you, I highly doubt that.  _ As I was saying _ ,” He transitions in a tone as if it was Tony’s fault the conversation had derailed in the first place. “The Infinity Stones are complicated structures. While one powerful enough may be able to wield them and bend the raw power of them to suit their wills, one can also feed off the power the Stones emit. I do have the capability of storing objects in a pocket dimension only accessible to me, and it’s a rather rudimentary spell. Since the Space Stone is able to manipulate space and allow inter-dimensional travel by design, I’m able to wean off of that power to sort of act as a buffer between myself and the repercussions of using my own abilities. What would normally be a very simple summoning and de-summoning spell is made possible by the stone, but still exhausts me to perform. If I tried it again now, I may not be able to even stand on my feet.”

Tony finds it slightly out of character for Loki to straight up admit how debilitated he is right now, even if it’s something he can assess for himself. Maybe he’s trying to win Tony’s sympathies over? Thor always warned them that Loki would do whatever it takes for him to come out as unscathed as possible, and he has eons of deception under his belt. Tony doesn’t plan on letting his guard down for a second.

Tony squints again, trying to determine how far away they are from their supposed destination. He pulls a pair of sunglasses from an inner pocket, tapping the stem to bring the HUD up so that he can survey the environment. No signs of life in the general vicinity, no detectable toxins in the air, but he can’t seem to get a read on much otherwise. Scanning the earth, it seems to be comprised of minerals unfamiliar to his systems, just getting error codes in place of actual results. He zooms back in on the mountains, the calculations taking a bit but eventually showing him that they’re a good twenty-eight miles out still, estimating about eight hours travel time on foot if they continue at the pace they’re at now.

“You couldn’t have teleported us a little closer?” Tony asks sourly, looking towards the sky again. There’s still no sign of stars or any other celestial bodies to try and get a read on how far they are from nightfall. While the colors and brightness mimick a sunset, he actually has no idea what time it was here.

“It’s not an exact science,” Loki replies sharply, glaring down at him. “I’d like to see you try and use the Stone. Your physical form would probably discorperate and scatter through the planes before you could even try and teleport two feet away.”

He knows there’s no point in trying to pick a fight over that. “Still, I don’t think you’re very keen on walking for another thirty miles. Why don’t I just fly us in? The nanobots don’t run out of juice.”

“I’d rather not attract attention, Stark,” Loki growls. “While the Svartalfheim are a rather neutral party as far as races in the Nine go, I don’t exactly curry favor with  _ all _ of them. While I have some contacts within the city, I’m sure there are plenty who will see me as an opportunity for ransom. I have no idea how fast word might have traveled back here that I’m now wanted on Asgard, but I’d rather not take that risk.”

City? Tony sees no city. Maybe it’s tucked away behind the mountain range. Tony zooms in as far as the glasses display will allow, but it just looks like some rocky cliff faces to him. “Why don’t you just let me fly us for a bit? I can keep low to the ground and not attract too much attention. It’ll shave down our walking time by at least a few hours, and it’ll save you from having to trudge along dragging those heavy chains with you.”

Loki glares at him for a moment before staring back out at the mountains. “Fine. Stay low to the ground, and you stop and rid yourself of the suit as soon as I say so. There are some nasty creatures that start to come out of their holes this time of day, and I’d rather not the two of us be crushed by a golem or swallowed whole by one of the sand serpents.”

“Keep an eye out for Gollum and snakes, got it,” Tony summons the suit and stares at Loki for a moment who’s standing with his arms stubbornly crossed over his chest. “I ain’t carrying you princess style, sweetheart. Arms up.”

Loki sighs and turns around, holding out his arms so that Tony can hook his underneath his armpits. “If you drop me again, I  _ will _ kill you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Tony drawls before they take off into the air once more.


	2. This Is Me Being Nice

Tony keeps his promise and stays low to the ground, Loki’s feet dangling only a few yards above the surface as they make their way, a bit of a dust trail being left behind them. The suit is still relatively quiet, all running on clean energy and not needing any kind of loud engines to power his thrusters. He keeps the speed sensible, keeping an eye out for any passing danger that may light up the HUD.

There isn’t as much pressure to talk now that they’ve taken flight, the hum of his suit filling the space between them. Tony’s thoughts start to drift on how he got himself into this mess, now toting around a maniacal god who had been trying to raze his home not but a few hours ago. He starts to think about Morgan, wondering the likelihood that he’ll return to her. He never got the chance to truly apologize to Pepper for doing this yet again, even though he knows she wouldn’t have accepted it.

The mountains are much more visible 40 minutes later, Tony now able to see a few small orbs of light along parts of the cliff face, as well as a few dark openings. He notices at the same time Loki does that each of the lights start flashing individually, trailing down towards the bottom. A warning signal.

“Down,” Loki commands, Tony already slowing to a stop. He drops back to the ground, helmet disassembling. Loki adjusts his closing, staring at something in the distance “Now we walk.”

It’s a few minutes later when Tony sees the dust clouds being kicked up on the horizon, two small shapes approaching. Loki doesn’t stop or slow his pace, so Tony keeps walking next to him. The shapes look like some sort of hovercrafts, Tony bringing his sights back up to zoom in further. There’s at least two figures on each vehicle, their heads wrapped in scarves to make it impossible to make out any other details.

“Keep your armor on,” Loki advises. “But leave your face exposed. Do not speak until I give you permission, understand?”

Tony’s jaw clenches but he nods and continues walking alongside Loki. As the hovercrafts grow closer, Tony realizes they’re much larger than he expected. Not only that but the dwarves themselves are… well, also much larger than he expected. Their physique is similar to what Tony would expect the race of mythological figures to look like, but they’re all at least twice his and Loki’s height. He comes to a halt when Loki does, the carriers stopping a few yards away. Two dwarves hop down, one out of each floating ship, and walk towards them.

“Halt!” One of them calls out, voice booming even behind the cloth wrapped around his face. “Who goes there?”

“Prince Loki of Asgard, son to King Odin and Queen Frigga,” Loki calls back without a moment of hesitation, his head held high.

The dwarves trade looks before coming closer. They both pull their scarves down, and he can see their faces are tanned and pocked with what look like battle scars and burns. They look Loki over before shifting their attention towards Tony. “And who accompanies Prince Loki of Asgard?” The other one asks, almost mockingly. He shares a grin with his cohort.

“This is Stark, a hired mercenary of the Asgardian royal family. He was sent to recover me after I was kidnapped,” Loki holds up his chains as an example. “But we unfortunately are not able to return home just yet. I was hoping to speak with Eitri, he is an old friend.”

The pair trade skeptical looks again before looking back at Loki. “Eitri is on Nidavellir, tending to the forges,” one of them states, glancing upwards at the sky for a moment. Tony’s gaze follows his, but he can’t see anything discernible in the reddening sky.

“His brother, Brokkr, then? Is he available?”

“Brokkr is in the city,” He confirms. “Do you have proof that you are of Asgard?”

Loki scoffs. “The proof is my appearance alone. Any educated Svartalfar would be able to recognize me. Take me into the city to speak with someone of note and you will see. I’ll be sure to tell your superiors how you kept me waiting when I’ve been wandering this desolate wasteland for  _ days _ now.”

One of the dwarves looks a bit nervous at Loki’s claims, but the other remains stoic. “I do not know the face of Loki, but I have heard him to have  _ many  _ faces. We will need proof that you are of Asgard as you say you are, or else you may not enter our city. I’m sure your own guards would do the same for any unknown stragglers they find on the outskirts.”

“ _ Unknown—! _ ” Loki repeats in disgust, raising his voice. Tony isn’t sure if he’s playing up the spoiled brat angle for the guards, or if his ego legitimately can’t handle the slight. It’s sort of impossible to tell with him. “Stark,” he snaps, turning to look at Tony. “There’s an Asgardian forged dagger sheathed on the back of my right thigh. Please draw it and present it as this  _ evidence _ this man requires.”

Tony glances between Loki and the guards before giving a single nod, moving closer into Loki’s space. He feels along his hip and down to his thigh, fingers sliding over tight leathers to find the handle of the dagger. He feels Loki shift slightly against his hand, and glances up to see the man  _ grinning, _ of all things. He’s probably getting a real kick of all this, being able to order Tony around— why not make him cop a squeeze while he’s at it? Tony shoots him a quick glare before he draws the knife out, turning to hold it out to the guards.

They both shift positions immediately, one of them drawing a large war hammer off his back. Tony holds up a hand in surrender, trying to grip the blade in the most non-threatening way possible, but that doesn’t seem to put the dwarves at ease, the one with the hammer stepping towards him.

Loki is in front of him in an instant, placing himself between Tony and the dwarf while hissing some sharp command in a language Tony doesn’t understand. That seems to halt the man, the other coming up to put a warning hand on his arm. “You so much as lay a  _ finger _ on my hireling, and I will make sure all ten of them are sawed off from your hand with the dullest blade that can be found in your  _ shithole _ forges,” he threatens, voice dropping out of the princely whine and into something much more dangerous.

Tony can’t lie; It’s a little hot.

The hammer-wielder steps back with a muttered apology, his partner stepping forward instead and holding out a hand to Tony. He glances to Loki for permission before reaching up, passing the dagger along for inspection. It’s gilded and looks hardly used, shining gold with many gemstones encrusted along the handle. The dwarf balances it on the tip of one massive finger, the little blade not wavering a centimeter. He taps it against the metal of his armor, an almost harmonic thrum reverberating in the air. “It’s Asgardian,” he confirms to his friend, passing the knife back to Tony who sheaths it back onto Loki’s person, not lingering too much this time. “My sincerest apologies. We will take you and the mercenary to Brokkr.”

Loki squares his shoulders, reaching up the best he can with his tied hands to brush his hair back from his face. “Just as I requested  _ initially _ ,” he tacks on indignantly before following the two men back to their floating ships.

They have to be assisted on board, allowing the much larger dwarves to grab them by the arms and hoist them up, Tony and Loki sitting side-by-side. The ship is sort of built like a gondola, but is made out of metal instead of wood. Tony leans over slightly as they start back towards the mountains, seeing the pulsing energy trail that’s left in their wake. The technology must be similar to his repulsors, and he’s dying to ask questions and get a closer look, but Loki places a warning hand on his knee as soon as he notices him peering too close. He gives a small shake of his head and Tony remains silent for the rest of the ride. Loki doesn’t remove his hand during that time either.

They arrive at an open mouth of a cave with large, iron gates pulled shut. The guards help them off the ship and speak with the ones posted at the gates. Tony watches from a distance as the gateman look both of them over, seemingly pointing to Loki and nodding some kind of confirmation.

They’re called forward and the doors swing open with a large creak. The cavern is dark, but there are huge, brass-made braziers lining the inside of the cave walls, a bright blue flame igniting the torches there that lead further down into the base of the mountain. They’re escorted along, flanked on either side and behind by the guards who had been on the ships, with one leading in the front. It’s quiet at first, but as they descend down a huge set of steps that both Tony and Loki struggle with being the size that they are, sound begins to greet them. It’s a cacophony of metal on metal, the roar of flames, and voices overlapping each other amidst all the noise. Tony picks up on the familiar scent of heated metals, but before they can get closer to where he sees the cave open up, they take a turn down a thinner cavern.

It’s another ten minutes of stairs and walking, passing by more tunnels that branch off from the main one, a few dwarves in simple leathers and armor occasionally passing by them. They finally come to a large metal door in the stone wall in front of them, their guide knocking twice on the door. There’s a rumble from inside that apparently is their cue to enter, the room appearing to be a workshop of some kind with a smoldering fire burning in a smaller forge in the corner. There’s a dwarf to their back to them with dark, dreaded hair, hammering away at one of the work benches.

“Brokkr,” their escort calls out, dismissing the others that had followed them all the way into the mountains. “I have Prince Loki of Asgard who has requested to see you.”

The hammering immediately stops. The dwarf turns, his frown visible even underneath the thick and unruly beard. “I though’ you died.”

“You would be so lucky,” Loki replies smoothly. “No, if I were dead then I couldn’t collect on your debts now could I?”

Brokkr fully faces them now, removing his thick hide gloves and placing them on the table before getting down from the stool. He walks with a slight limp, lumbering over to get a better look at his visitors. “Dismissed,” he grunts at the guard who nods and quickly exits the room. “To wha’ do I owe the pleasure, Li’l Prince?” His gaze then slides over to Tony, something lighting up in his charcoal dark eyes. “An’ what’ve you brough’ me ‘ere?” He rumbles in interest, kneeling down to get a better look at Tony and his armor.

“This is my… ally. He is a smith of sorts from Midgard.”

“ _ Midgard! _ ” Brokkr booms in surprise, a smile lighting up his wizened face as he peers even closer. Tony can now see a slight, milky film over one of his eyes. “My, my, I ‘aven’t seen a Midgardian in centuries! ‘Ow did you find your way ‘ere?”

Tony glances to Loki again, not sure if he’s supposed to continue to follow his instruction or let the wordsmith do the talking. Loki rolls his eyes. “It’s quite the long story, Brokkr, and we’re sort of in a rush here.” He holds up his hands, unable to extend them all the way as they’re caught by the long chain that connects them to his feet. “Can you tend to these?”

Brokkr is unwilling as he pulls his attention away from Tony’s armor, now squinting down at Loki. He hums in thought, the sound like boulders tumbling against each other. He hooks a finger around the chains, giving a little tug and forcing Loki almost completely off his balance. Tony reaches out on instinct to catch him, the god shooting him a disdainful glare before righting himself. “Sorry,” Brokkr says around a chuckle, bringing a magnifying eyepiece up to his good eye so he can examine the chains closer. “Hm, ye, this is Svartalfheim steel alrigh’, definitely forged in the Sindri Range. It’s quite old… seems to ‘ave been manufactured using Malchionite tools. Those are ‘ard to come by these days,” he rubs his beard in thought. “Not sure if we’ll ‘ave any ‘ere, but I can ask ‘round.”

“Please do so right away, I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to be dredging around like this,” Loki sighs dramatically. He tilts his head back, pointing at the collar. “And what can be done about this?”

The dwarf brings his eyeglass up again, pressing a finger to the glowing rune on the silver latch. He lets out a displeased sound. “Not much I’ll be able to do abou’ tha’ m’self. None of us ‘here really dabble with enchanting… we leave tha’ to the elves. I reckon Andvari should be able to take a crack at it though.”

Loki visibly blanches. “ _ Andvari _ ? Are you sure there isn’t anyone else who might have knowledge of it?”

Brokkr scratches behind his hear. “None tha’ I know of. I think ‘e’s on Nidavellir righ’ now, workin’ with Eitri an’ the others. I can try an’ call ‘im down so ‘e can take a look there…” He grins suddenly, missing a few of his yellowed teeth. “Unless ye’ scared?”

“Scared?” Loki scoffs, failing at schooling his expression. “Of course not. Andvari and I just have our… differences.” At Tony’s quizzical look, he rolls his eyes. “We had a bit of a spat over a ring a few millennia ago. Honestly, I wish he would just  _ let it go _ .”

“I don’ think Andvari’s the one who ‘as the issue with not lettin’ go,” Brokkr mutters, flashing Tony a conspiratorial grin. “Either way, you’re both welcome t’ stay ‘ere until we can scrounge up wha’ ye need. We may not ‘ave as fancy quarters as ye used to on Asgard, but we’ll provide only the best for Odinson and ‘is li’l Midgardian friend.” He flashes another toothy grin and calls out for the guard again. “Take our fine Prince an’ his knight to the nicest spare room we’ve got. I’ll go ahead an’ poke abou’ in the forges an’ see if anyone’s got somethin’ in the way of Malchionite.” He leans down towards Tony as they prepare to go, whispering, “I wanna talk to ye abou’ tha’ armor later, Midgardian.”

Tony flashes an awkward smile and a quick nod before Loki grabs him by the arm and pulls him out of the room.

Their “nicest spare room” apparently consists of a loosely rectangle-shaped cavern that’s about the size of his living room back home. There’s a large, dwarf-sized bed in the corner, with some drapery and curtains hanging against the rocky outcropping of the walls, seemingly just for decoration seeing as there were no windows to frame it with. The light source comes from a large chandelier hanging from above, warm golden torches casting a soft glow around the room. On the opposite side of where the bed sits is a hot spring, a stream of water trickling into the stone-lined bath from a hole in the wall.

They’re left alone with instructions to pull the lever beside the door that appears to signal to their guards if anything of importance is needed, but the dwarf makes it clear it’s not to be used as some service bell, pointedly looking to a smirking Loki on that remark. He tells them they’re allowed to come and go as they please as long as they don’t get in anyone’s way and to start no trouble. Another glance at the god.

The metal door clangs softly as he leaves, Loki immediately turning on his heel. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a bath after that row of ours.”

Tony taps his chest to call the armor back to its unit. He has to admit that the steam curling off the water does look enticing, the hot spring a surprisingly striking teal color despite the dank inner walls of the cavern. Loki starts to remove his many layers, the tattered cape the first thing to come off. He gets hung up when it comes to the armor, seeming to struggle a bit with the more stubborn straps and buckles that he can’t fully remove due to the restraints.

Tony shifts his weight awkwardly, pretending to find something interesting in the stone wall so that he’s not just standing there watching Loki fail to remove his own clothing. The seconds tick on and he hears a disgruntled sound, turning to see that he can’t get the outer layer of his breastplate off due to not being able to lift his arms above his head. Tony sighs and walks over to him against his better judgement.

“Let me help,” he offers resignedly.

Loki glares. “I can undress myself, Stark.”

“I’m sure you can under any other circumstances, but considering you’re chained up right now, I can see why you might be having some difficulty.”

“I’ll figure it out, I don’t want nor need your help.”

Tony rolls his eyes. He feels like he’s dealing with a toddler who refuses to get undressed and put their pajamas on before bed— which he has plenty of experience with, so the comparison isn’t that far off. “Stop being so goddamn stubborn. It won’t  _ kill _ you to let me help, y’know.”

They have a glaring contest for a few more seconds before Loki sighs through his nose and holds his arms out the best he can. Tony helps him remove the outer layers of his armor, kneeling down to undo his bootstraps. He unbuckles all of the belts and tucked away dagger sheaths, watching as an impossible amount of them clatter to the ground, more than expected hidden away on his person. He raises an eyebrow and Loki just shrugs before turning around.

There’s a series of fastenings on the back of Loki’s shirt, from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back. Was all Asgardian clothing this complicated? His deft fingers make quick work of the hook-eye latches, the black leather slowly falling open to reveal the flawless, pale skin beneath. Tony watches as goosebumps raise along the small bumps of his spine as his hands make their way down, occasionally brushing against his skin.

“Are you enjoying this?”

“What?” Tony blinks.

Loki turns his head ever so slightly to look over his shoulder. “Coming to my  _ rescue _ ,” he drawls sarcastically.

Tony rolls his eyes and finishes with the ridiculous shirt, moving around to Loki’s front so he can take it off him, the fabric getting bunched up over his wrist cuffs. “I’m helping you get naked, not saving you from a burning building.”

“You’re rather skilled at helping people with both, I assume,” Loki remarks, head tilting to the side.

Tony glances up at him as he manages to pull the long sleeves off over his shackles, tossing the shirt aside. Loki stands in front of him in just his black leather trousers now, fitted comfortably around his slim waist and long legs. Tony refuses to let his eyes linger for too long to give the god the satisfaction, meeting his gaze evenly. “I’ve got more experience with the former than the latter,” he shrugs nonchalantly before walking a few steps away to start shedding his own layers. “You can take your own fucking pants off.”

Tony keeps his back turned as he takes off the SHIELD uniform and his Underarmour beneath that. He still doesn’t trust Loki enough to not try and drown him in the bath, so he leaves the nanobots sealed to his chest for now. Behind him he hears the shifting of clothing and jangling of chains as Loki manages to get out of his ridiculous pants, followed by the sound of him entering the hot spring.

After stepping out of his pants, Tony pauses as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs. He’s hardly what someone would call  _ self-conscious _ , but for some reason Loki’s presence there causes hesitation. He’s got nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. Did Asgardians have a different threshold of reticence to nudity? Thor never had any issues walking around the base shirtless back in the day, but who could blame him with a body like that? Before he can overthink it, he drops his last article of clothing to the ground.

He expects  _ some _ semblance of modesty considering he had graciously turned away while Loki disrobed, but apparently that’s too much to ask for. As he turns around, he finds Loki lounging in the bath, brazenly raking his eyes over Tony’s form. He ignores the blatant ogling as he steps down into the mostly opaque water, grateful for the coverage. The water is the perfect level of scalding, Tony unable to help the small groan that slips free as he sinks down up to his neck. He dunks his head under the rest of the way, staying under the surface for a few seconds before he comes back up for air, settling opposite Loki on the stone bench that circles the entire pool.

Loki is still staring at him, eyes now seeming to settle on his chest. “That’s different, isn’t it?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. His black hair is slightly damp now from the steam curling up around them, relaxing the locks out of their severe waves.

Tony pushes his hair back from his head, looking down at his chest. The scarring from the removal of the arc reactor is still visible, as it probably will be for years to come. He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s an upgrade.”

Loki arches a brow in interest. “I’ve been thinking about what it could possibly be beneath your shirt that would protect your heart against the use of the Mind Stone… What is it?”

Loki looks frustrated to be asking the question, but just curious enough to warrant threatening his status as an all-knowing immortal being in Tony’s eyes. He presses his lips together. “What I had in 2012 was something I called an arc reactor. It was an electromagnet, but since then I’ve had it removed. This is a housing unit for my armor.”

“Ah, and here I had thought the little genius had tapped into some sort of magic to be able to summon and banish your armor in the way I do. Should I be flattered by my possible influence?”

Tony rolls his eyes.  _ Cocky asshole _ . “No, you shouldn’t. If anything, you should be slighted by the fact that some  _ mortal _ was able to use technology to accomplish the same task as your sorcerer mumbo jumbo and  _ improve _ upon it..”

Loki’s smile is patronizing. “It’s adorable that you think your fancy little suits could even compare to what I can do. You can’t even imagine—”

It’s childish, he knows, but he can’t stop himself. Tony pushes his hand across the top of the water, splashing him in the face. Loki is drenched now, slowly raising a hand to push the soaked locks of hair back from his face, wiping the water from his eyes. They stare at each other for a few long moments, and Tony barely has time to double tap the reactor before Loki lunges for him.

Lightning fast, he manages to get both hands around Tony’s throat and pin him against the rocks behind him, looking smug and angry all at once “Do not forget your place, Iron Man. I am still a God. You may have been able to protect yourself with your armor or your augmentations in the past, but even without my magic I can drown you without a second thought.” He uses his leverage to push Tony down further into the water to punctuate his point. He feels his airway being restricted but not entirely closed off, lifting his chin to keep his mouth and nose above water. He tries not to let the panic show, but it’s hard to feel helpless around water even after all this time, part of his subconscious always thrusting him back into that cave in Afghanistan.

“That might… be true...” Tony strained to get out past the whole being-strangled-thing. “But even with… your magic… it’s all illusion… Nothing like the… real deal.” His eyes shift somewhere past Loki’s head, looking up around them.

It’s only then Loki glances up from his face, finding six of Tony’s sniper sentries floating in the air around them, all with red laser beams aimed at his head. Loki turns his gaze on each of them in turn, and surprisingly enough, the hands around Tony’s neck loosen and his grin only widens. “Impressive. You may just prove yourself useful yet.”

He pushes himself away from Tony and rather than swim back to the other side of the pool, he settles next to him on the bench. There’s still a person-wide breadth between them, but the proximity is jarring after what had just happened. Tony calls off the nano-bots, rubbing his throat. “Considering I’m all you’ve got for protection until you get your powers back, you might want to start being a bit nicer to me.”

Loki smiles toothily. “This is me being nice.”

Tony rolls his eyes and scoots a bit further away. Luckily there had been no bumping uglies with Loki’s violent foreplay just now, but he’d rather keep his distance from the villain. “So how soon until we can get And-whoever back from Niva-wherever to get that stupid collar off you and I can go home?”

“ _ Andvari _ from  _ Nidavellir _ ,” Loki corrects. “And I have no idea. It’s the heart of a dying star that they’ve built a forge around to utilize its power, and it’s not but a day’s travel from here. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. Once I’m restored to my full power, time will mean nothing. With the Space Stone along with my natural abilities, getting you back to whichever point in time will be elementary.”

“You can time travel without the Time Stone?” Tony asks skeptically.  _ Strange would be so jealous of this guy. _ “How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me?”

Loki sighs. “I suppose you don’t, but we can’t keep walking in circles with that argument. I may not be the most honorable man, but I can keep my word when it benefits me, and when I think a person may deserve it. Jury is still out on you, but you seem to grow more intriguing by the minute,” he eyes him again, lingering over his chest once more. “But yes, I am able to manipulate my way through time with the proper ritual; I’ve been doing it for eons. I try not to make it a habit to meddle in timelines that aren’t my own but… well, sometimes I get  _ bored _ .”

_ Psychopath. Remember you’re dealing with a psychopath _ , Tony reminds himself every time Loki says something that makes him want to crack a smile.

“Speaking of which, what became of me in your current present?” Loki asks, running his long fingers through his hair that’s starting to get a natural curl to it as it dries. “I can’t imagine that even without being able to escape with the Space Stone that my fool-hearted brother would have let me be imprisoned for the rest of my life on Asgard.”

Tony looks away, staring down at the light of his reactor reflecting across the water’s surface. He had only talked to Thor briefly about Loki’s death. He didn’t know all the details other than it came from Thanos and was done right in front of him, brutal and quick. How did you tell someone that they die in the future? Although he supposed that was no longer  _ this _ Loki’s future. Hell, Tony still couldn’t fully wrap his brain around the idea of the split realities and alternate timelines, and he had been the one to crack the time travel for Christ’s sake. He didn’t even try that hard. That night feels like it happened years ago now that he’s sitting naked in a hot spring with a deranged god in a faraway realm. He suddenly aches for his lake house study and the taste of organically-made fruit popsicles.

“Stark.”

Tony jolts out of his reverie, Loki staring at him expectantly. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair. “Right, sorry. I don't really know where you are now in my timeline.”  _ Not a lie, technically _ . “Thor kept you away from Midgard after the Chitauri. There was… Well, Asgard isn’t around anymore, I guess? Something about… your sister returning and having to burn it to the ground. You and Thor escaped with most of the people though, but you went your separate ways when he decided to bring them to Earth.” Tony glances sideways at Loki, trying to gauge a reaction.

He doesn’t bat an eyelash, looking completely unphased by the news that the place he once called home now ceased to exist. “Good riddance,” he says, sinking back into the water and closing his eyes. He looks more at peace than Tony has seen him yet. “The realms will be better off without it.”

He isn’t sure what to say to that. He knows to some extent that Loki felt slighted by his upbringing, but he just assumed it was growing up in Thor’s shadow. It’s only natural he took to the darkness when his brother shone so brilliantly.

The conversation hits a lull after that. He supposes the destruction of one of their homelands (whether it was one they were fond of or not) stunts any further discussion. Tony finds himself relaxing against the warm stones as well, eyelids drooping. He doesn’t let them close entirely yet, still not trusting of He-Who-Is-Fond-of-Strangling.

Water sloshes next to him as Loki stands in his periphery. Tony keeps his eyes trained at a neutral point on the wall, refusing to sneak a peek as Loki hoists himself out of the water, picking up one of the thick woven towels on the ground. All he catches is a glimpse of pale, almost glowing skin before it’s out of his vision.

“If you need help getting dressed I’m going to be unavailable for at least twenty more minutes,” Tony says, feeling the tightness of his muscles as he stretches them underneath the water. It’s a much more welcoming experience without any attempted drowning.

“I think I’ll manage,” Loki grumbles from behind him, chains jingling as he dries himself and starts to redress. “Try not to boil yourself.”

Tony lets his mind drift a bit more as he sinks down to his ears and runs his hands over his body, washing away any further traces of red dirt. He wonders what the team is doing now. Would they attempt to search for him? Would they go back to the present without him? They were limited with time travel useage unless they could get their hands on more Pym Particles, and while Tony had a fallback mission in the event of something going horribly sideways, that sort of relied on him being present with the others and not whisked away to another realm.

His thoughts, as always, return to Morgan. Leaving her that morning he drove out to the Avengers base was one of the hardest things he had to do. He put on a brave face for her and Pepper, but there was still that niggling worry that maybe not everything would work out. He felt guilty for recording the message before the mission, for even  _ entertaining _ the notion that Daddy might not come home. Best case scenario, everything goes according to plan and he deletes the recording altogether, no one else needing to be the wiser. Worst case…

Well, he can’t afford to think like that.

Tony eventually stands up, popping his back as he stretches and twists, throwing a cursory glance around the room. He finds Loki laying down on the bed, hands clasped together over his stomach, eyes closed but clearly not yet asleep. His lips are moving, seemingly muttering something under his breath, far too quiet for Tony to hear.

He grabs the remaining towel and wraps it around himself as he emerges, wanting to keep some modicum of dignity despite the god so unabashedly ogling him earlier. With no other choice available, he redresses himself in the SHIELD uniform. It’s not the most comfortable outfit in the world, but he supposes he could be stuck in much worse.

The bed is single dwarf-sized, meaning it’s at least a the size of a King width wise, and twice as long. It’s low enough to the ground that Tony is able to grab the top of the stone frame and clamber up to reach the mattress. Loki lays right in the middle of the bed, which leaves  _ enough _ room for Tony, but it seems a little unfair.

“Scoot over,” Tony grouses as he climbs onto the mattress. It’s firm but not as solid as he expects, the sheets thin and breathable.

Loki cracks an eye open and slides further towards the wall without protest, rolling onto his side to face away from Tony. He settles down onto the mattress, still leaving a healthy amount of distance between them. He mirrors Loki, laying away from him as he tries to calm his mind enough to fall asleep. It’s gotten easier over the years, but a complete restful night’s sleep is still something that tends to evade him. Being in a completely unfamiliar location and sharing a bed with a murderous god isn’t exactly the calming energy he’s looking for. Nonetheless, the day’s events take their toll, the exhaustion washing over him quickly and unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Tony isn't awoken by his own screaming, but instead by a loud banging against their door. Loki seems to have been woken by it first, already sitting up when Tony lifts his head to regain his surroundings. Loki agilely climbs over his body, jumping to the ground before going to the door. “Who is it?” He calls, voice rough with sleep.

“Who do ye think?” Brokkr’s voice comes through the door. “Ye decent in there?”

“Regretfully so,” Loki sighs, Tony too sore and tired to try and process what he means by that right now.

He props himself up on his elbows as Loki opens the door, Brokkr lumbering in. “I’ve go’ good news for ye. Eitri’s foun’ wha’ we need t’ ge’ those chains off. Andvari agreed t’ come back with ‘im as well.”

“One usually doesn’t specify  _ good  _ news unless there’s a follow up of  _ bad  _ news,” Loki draws. “Out with it, Brokkr.”

Brokkr scratches his beard awkwardly, grumbling something to himself before he raises his voice again. “S’Gonna be a few days before they ge’ back.”

“A few  _ days _ ?” Loki hisses. “Didn’t you tell him it was  _ urgent _ ?”

“Course I did! They go’ a lotta work to do up there, Eitri won’ jus’ drop everythin’ ‘cos I asked. I even lied t’im an’ said Thor was with ye since we both know ‘e prefers ye brother t’ ye, no offense.”

“None taken,” Loki grumbles. “Eitri’s favor means little to me.”

“Sounds like his favor would come in handy right now though,” Tony calls out mid-yawn, pushing the sheets off him.

That earns a sharp glare from Loki and a hearty chuckle from Brokkr. “I would hold your quips, Stark. Time here passes much slower than on Midgard. A few days will feel like  _ weeks  _ to you.”

That does wipe the smile right off his face. He has to be stuck here with Loki for  _ weeks _ ? He tries to remind himself that no matter how much time passes here, Loki will just warp them back to the Avengers Facility in 2023. It’s only a slightly comforting thought when he has to face the reality that his time with the god might be more extended than he initially thought.

“Ye don’ ‘ave to say tha’ like it’s such a bad thin’,” Brokkr chuckles. “There’s plenty t’do ‘round ‘ere, ‘specially if the Midgardian is a smith like ye said before.”

Tony jumps down from the bed, interest now piqued. “You know what, I couldn’t agree more.”  _ And anything to get away from this psycho _ . “Take me to wherever you guys build things. Put some materials and tools in front of me and the weeks will fly right by.”

Loki’s arm shoots out, stopping Tony before he can get to the door. “I don’t think so. I’m not letting you out of my sight and I will not be left alone when I’m vulnerable like this.”

Tony narrows his eyes, shoving Loki’s arm away. “Then come with. You can just stand off to the side and play with your knives or something.”

Loki crosses his arms. “As much as I would  _ love  _ to sit around and watch you engage in sweaty, manual labor, I will not waltz around in a city full of possible enemies and aggressors looking like a prisoner. We will stay in the room.” Before Tony can argue, Loki turns to Brokkr. “Contact them again and see if we can push up that time frame. I’ll make sure it’s well worth you and your brother’s while. Until then, please have someone bring our meals here as well as an extra set of clothes or two if you happen to have anything in our sizing.”

Brokkr bows mockingly. “Anythin’ else?”

Loki casts a sideways look at Tony. “...I suppose if you could bring some sort of activity to keep this one occupied that would be…  _ appreciated _ .”

Brokkr actually flashes a smile at that, looking like that’s the one haughty request of Loki’s he actually doesn’t mind fulfilling. “I’ll do m’best.”

The door closes with an echoing clang, Tony immediately grabbing Loki by the arm. “You can’t keep me locked up in here just because you’re scared to walk around a bunch of people who probably want to kick your ass for good reason.”

“Take your hand off me,” Loki says in a controlled tone, making no move to remove it himself. “You’re rather intelligent so I shouldn’t need to remind you that I’m the only way you will be returned to your proper timeline. I will make the rules, Anthony, and you will follow them.”

Tony tightens his grip for a moment before releasing his arm. “Why can’t  _ you  _ stay here, then? Use that prince title of yours and have them station guards outside the door. I’m not going to be very good at protecting you if I’m too busy going stir crazy.”

Loki calmly smooths the nonexistent wrinkles from the soft black fabric of his sleeve. “You’ve seen how well they’ve taken to me ordering them around. Brokkr is an old ally and kinder than what’s good for him, but more important than that, he  _ owes  _ me. Yes, I may be a prince on Asgard, but that will only carry me so far here. The Svartalfar have no concept of royalty. I came  _ here  _ specifically because these mountains contain the forges where a majority of armor and weaponry is commissioned by Asgard. The dwarves here have more…  _ respect  _ for my family name, but that is as generous as I can be. I do not want word travelling that I am here and that I am vulnerable, because I am still only the second son to Odin,” his face twists in disgust. “Thor would feel right at home here and would be free to roam as he pleased. They would throw their weapons and inventions at his feet in the hopes of him turning his attentions to them. As a sorcerer and a scholar, I curry no favor here.”

Tony hates to admit it, but he can actually understand where Loki is coming from. While there had been ample opportunity for him to prove himself as more than just his suit and his money, there had been plenty of situations over the years where missions came down to nothing more than their physical ability alone. When he was surrounded by assassins with decades of training, super soldiers, and gods, it was easy for him to fall into the damsel role as just a guy with a really big brain. He’s worked harder than anyone to minimize the possibility of being left without his failsafes, and he likes to think now with the Mark LXXXV he’s succeeded in doing so. Even still, he can’t help but feel bad for Loki given his circumstances with having his proverbial wings clipped.

_ He’s a murderer, Tony. Stop feeling bad for him. _

“Fine,” he settles, crossing his arms. “But if you insist on trapping me in here with you then no more trying to choke me out.”

Loki simply grins. “I make no promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! They keep me trucking right along on this fic. Expect the next chapter in about a week or so! <3


	3. You Don't Belong to Him, Do You?

By what Tony knows to be “Day Four”, he starts to think that maybe this isn’t going to be so terrible.

The food isn’t half bad, plenty of foreign tasting meats with interesting spices and boiled vegetables and soups on the side. The bread is fairly stale and the ingredients get repetitive, but he supposes he can’t fault a city that functions mostly underground for not having an array of fresh fruits other cuisine at their disposal.

Brokkr brings them some human-sized plainclothes made of a hemp-like material, sturdy but not the most flattering. He accepts the non-tailored tunic and pants with less complaints than Loki, the god turning up his nose at the fact that the clothes do nothing for his figure. Tony reminds him it’s not like anyone will be seeing him anyway, and the god eventually changes into them on Day Two.

Along with the clothing, their dwarf friend also brings Tony a workbench and some raw materials, leftover metals, gears, and other pieces of unfinished equipment or leftover parts he can tinker with to his heart’s desire. Brokkr apologizes that they don’t have many tools that are fit for someone as small as him, but luckily the Bleeding Edge armor takes on whatever form he needs. Brokkr is fascinated by the way the nanomachines work and ends up camped out in their room for hours as Tony shows off all the application of the suit. He feels fulfilled and engaged with the conversation of a fellow inventor, unphased by Loki quietly ignoring them in the corner.

The hours are long but do pass by, Tony having his scrap metals to toy with, Brokkr bringing Loki large books and parchment, pen, and ink by request. They stay on separate sides of the room, Loki pouring over his oversized tomes while Tony pokes and prods away, building without any purpose or goal in mind. It’s sort of nice to just let his hands make whatever his brain can come up without assistance from his AI and synthesizing systems he has back home. He hasn’t built something for himself just for  _ fun _ in what seems like ages.

By the second week… he’s starting to get bored. There’s only so much he can do to occupy his time, and the space is small and claustrophobic. He paces around the room for a bit one morning (if it even could be considered morning), eventually summoning the suit and flying around the room. The ceiling does stretch up a good fifty feet, but it’s still hardly enough space to really get his jets going. He practices some mid-air maneuvers, testing the thrusters and his own physical prowess to be better equipped next time he goes toe to toe with someone that can knock him out of the air. He runs these drills for some time: flying up, shutting off the suit, doing a couple of somersaults or mid-air twists before kicking them back on, wash, rinse, repeat.

“Must you continue all that racket?” Loki calls up to him after a few hours of this exercise.

Tony removes the helmet and looks down at Loki who had been doing his weird meditating thing just a few minutes before. He’s still in the same position he spends multiple hours a day in, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, hands resting on his thighs. His eyes are no longer closed though, staring up at Tony with his usual glare of disdain.

“I could be doing this outside if someone would _allow_ _me the privilege,_” Tony replies in his best worst English accent.

Loki’s lips quirk into a smile. “Is that supposed to be an impression of me?”

“Maybe,” Tony floats back down to the ground, recalling the armor. “Doesn’t that get boring?”

Loki inhales and exhales deeply from his nose before rising gracefully back to his feet. “The point of meditation isn’t that it’s  _ exciting _ , Stark.”

“Well what do you do it for?” He asks, genuinely curious. He’s never been very good at trying it out himself, even with Pepper and numerous doctors trying to offer it as a method to help deal with his stress and the panic attacks. His brain is just too loud to try and shut off like that. He’s even asked Bruce for tips, but he just doesn’t have the same motivation to stay calm that the other man has with Big Greenie wriggling around in the back of his subconscious.

“It helps quiet the many impervious thoughts running around in my mind,” Loki sighs, going back over to open up one of the books Brokkr got him, smoothing his hand over the wrinkled edges of the pages. “And it’s a habit. I normally do it to help tap into the mana I use to cast spells. Simple answer is that I do it because I  _ like _ to.”

Tony hums and walks up behind him, peering over his shoulder at the large book he has propped against the wall. The pages are filled with interesting diagrams and text in a language he can’t read. “What are you reading about?”

Loki shoots a narrowed gaze over his shoulder. “You’re being rather annoying today, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I warned you I was going to go stir crazy,” Tony says, sitting down next to him. “Come on, share with the rest of the class.”

Loki rolls his eyes but indulges Tony all the same. “It’s a book on celestial bodies known to this realm and how the Dwarves use them for navigation and the explanation of other phenomena in their solar systems. It’s hardly my usual subject of choice for research material, but it’s more interesting than the history of their wars and interplanar skirmishes.”

Tony isn’t exactly sure how either subject proves more valuable than the other, but then he spots what looks like some kind of design blueprint as Loki flips through the pages. “Wait, wait, go back— there.” He places a hand on the page. “That’s an astrolabe.”

Loki reads some of the text underneath the diagram. “Indeed. It was the first of its kind ever designed by the Svartalfar.”

“Whoa,” Tony breathes, genuinely impressed by the work put into it. He puts a hand over Loki’s, stopping him from turning the page. With his free hand he whips out his glasses and scans over the page, letting his system copy the design into his database.

“May I continue?” Loki’s hand twitches under his own, Tony not realizing he had wrapped his fingers around his wrist while the image downloaded.

He quickly releases him, straightening back up. “Yeah, sorry.”

Loki stares at his glasses for a beat longer before returning to the book. “A new project, perhaps?”

“We’ll see,” Tony says, pocketing the glasses and returning to his work bench.

“As long as it keeps you quiet and on the ground.”

Loki gets his wish for the next few days. Tony outlines to Brokkr some additional materials he needs, able to set up a makeshift forge using the nanobots and some heating cells. It’s not enough to melt down his materials completely, but he’s able to heat up the scraps so that they’re malleable enough to shape into the pieces he requires. The AR function on his glasses works well enough for him to project the designs in front of him and follow their outline, starting to piece together the foundations of the inclinometer.

Unfortunately, the inner workings of the device are a lot more intricate than his interim workstation is equipped for. By the end of the week he’s left with a half-finished navigation system and more frustration than before.

That frustration starts to mount in more ways than one. Sharing a bed with someone else is something Tony got accustomed to with Pepper over the years, but for the past few, he hasn’t had that luxury. If he’s being perfectly honest with himself it’s been a dreadfully lonely three years. He’s not exactly chomping at the bit to express his marital woes and tribulations to Loki, and he certainly has no explanation for why he’s suddenly waking up with a hard-on while the Asgardian is pressed up against his back.

Week Three brings the new dynamic of a dropped barrier between them. They’ve been doing a fairly good job at keeping their distance while they sleep. They’re sharing a bed, yes, but there’s usually a good three-to-five feet of distance between them. Up until this point, the closest they got to any contact was one of them occasionally stirring in the night, realizing they had subconsciously shifted closer to one another, and rolling in the opposite direction. 

The first night it happens, Tony doesn’t really think too much of it. It’s a natural reaction, and it isn’t exactly like he’s gotten laid as of recent. He wakes to find Loki sidled up behind him, limbs kept to himself, but body connected to Tony’s from shoulder to hip. As gently as he can manage, he nudges Loki off of him, the god making a tired sound in his throat before moving back to his side of the bed. He wills away his erection by the time the other man wakes up, not seeming to be any the wiser. Loki is definitely the type to lord something like that over him as soon as he gets the chance.

The next night passes without incident, other than Tony counting himself lucky that the cave is relatively temperate, because Loki is an  _ absolute _ blanket hog. But then… it happens again. This time he wakes up on his back, finding Loki pressed along his side with one arm and one leg thrown over him, the weight of the chains there as well. He isn’t hard this time, but he certainly feels  _ stirrings _ when Loki shifts a bit in his sleep, rubbing his thigh along Tony’s. He doesn’t push Loki away this time, just shuts his eyes and lets himself fall back asleep. Next time he wakes up, Loki is back on his side of the bed, sleeping soundly a safe distance away.

If Loki had noticed these little  _ encounters _ , he certainly hasn’t said anything yet. They continue to mostly keep to themselves and don’t even share the hot spring together like they had their first day here, taking their turns when it comes to bathing. As many times as Tony has caught Loki watching him while he works or when he changes clothes, he finds himself returning the favor. He’ll occasionally chance a peek over at Loki when he’s soaking in the water, transfixed by the way his hair fans out in the water, and the flush to his pale skin. Loki catches him almost every time, a knowing smirk visible for the split second of shared eye contact before Tony’s turning away again.

It’s  _ weird _ , this unspoken tension between them. Tony hasn’t felt something so palpable since… well, since he and Steve almost went at it a few times back when the Avengers were first getting together. That blurring of lines between hatred and attraction, stuck in the middle of a tug-of-war game between the two. Nothing ever actually happened with Steve— not with the amount of repression the Star-Spangled Straight Man had pent up inside. Tony has to keep his thoughts from running away from him. Even if it’s true that maybe, _ just maybe _ Thor is right about his brother and in the future he's a  _ somewhat _ redeemable slimeball,  _ this _ Loki that he’s more or less being held hostage by is not that same man.  _ This _ Loki is a highly dangerous, intergalactic criminal who has murdered countless innocent people for his own sick games.

It’s hard to think of him in that light when he finds himself engaging in banter with the other man while they pester each other in the confines of their room, trading smirks and lingering glances. Loki starts to read his dusty old books aloud just to keep Tony entertained while he’s working, and in turn, Tony answers questions about the neuralink in his suit and how he came to develop the nanobots. They almost start to  _ understand _ one another, at least as far as an intellect goes. The same sort of things intrigue them, drive them, make them want to know  _ more _ .

_ Talk about Stockholm Syndrome, Tony, seriously who are you kidding? _

By the end of their fourth week, Tony finally experiences his first nightmare. He knew it would happen any day now what with his anxiety being at an all time high. Being held captive in a cave a long long way from home doesn’t exactly sit well with him. He can’t imagine why.

“Stark— Stark, wake up! Anth—  _ Tony _ !”

Tony snaps back into consciousness, heart hammering impossibly hard in his chest, blood roaring in his ears as he shoots into a sitting position. He feels hands on him— cold hands— He grabs them and forces them away, immediately vaulting off the bed. He doesn’t even have to activate the nanobots before they’re instantly forming around him, his body cradled in its metal cocoon before he even hits the ground.

He recalls the helmet, needing to feel less closed in so that he can actually breathe. There’s a stilted wheezing sound that he quickly realizes is coming from him as he struggles to get to his feet, looking around him. The room still has the dim glow of the everlit chandelier above, but it’s still the same craggy stone walls he’s been staring at for a month now.

“Tony,” he hears a voice repeat, whirling around to see Loki standing next to him. He looks more alert than one would expect having probably just been woken up himself, his hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail on the nape of his neck that had come loose during the night. “I need you to breathe.”

_ Yeah, no shit _ , Tony thinks to himself. As if it were that easy. Loki raises a hand to his chest piece, Tony staring down at it in surprise, watching the light filter through the spaces between his long fingers.

“You’re awake,” Loki says, tone softer than Tony had ever heard it before. “You’re still here.”

_ Yeah, that’s the problem! _ Tony wants to scream, but he can’t make his brain send the proper sentence to his mouth. He turns and stares at the door, looking at the heavy slider lock that always remained in place unless Loki himself went to open it to allow Brokkr or any of the dwarven guards in who brought them their meals.

Loki apparently follows his eyeline. “Stark, wait—”

Tony jets off towards the door, aiming a hand and blasting it at the lock. A bright explosion bursts against the door, but once the smoke clears the lock is still in place, just heavily marred with black scorch marks.  _ Fucking dwarven-built bullshit _ .

He manually rips the chain out of the lock and turns the heavy handle, flinging the door open and flying out of the room. He can hear Loki yell something behind him, his voice echoing down the torchlit tunnel. He brings the HUD back up over his face, watching as his navigation systems attempt to find their lay of the land within the tunnel systems. He just needs to get  _ out _ . 

He winds down twists and turns, passing by a few dwarves here and there who all shout out at him, the wind whistling too loudly past his ears to make out what they might be saying. His system finally maps a route to the nearest opening within the cavern, Tony following it until he can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He’s surrounded by brightness as he bursts into the open air, seeing nothing but white for a moment as he feels the warmth of fresh air hit his face. He blinks against the light, bringing his hands up to block his eyes before the nanobots assist, closing the helmet over his head. He blinks the white spots out of his vision as everything comes clearly into view, finding himself out in the open, a good few hundred feet off the ground. He can see the gates they had originally entered down below, a few dwarves milling around outside, now staring up at him. He looks back up towards the sky, now a brilliant almost-white yellow, with a burning orange sun with rings around it visible far above in the atmosphere. 

He banishes the helmet once more and takes off into the air, flying higher and higher, faster and faster, until the wind is practically tearing at his face, pushing back his skin and making his eyes water.

Going for a flight has always been the best way to calm himself down from a panic attack. Despite most of his nightmares revolving around all the times he had been trapped out in the cold darkness of space, no way home whether he had his suit or not, it’s always been a sure fire way to get him away from the ledge. Maybe it’s because it gets his heart racing in a different way. He’s the one with control, the one in power. There’s no one holding him down or threatening his safety this way. It’s all on him.

Not wanting to push the altitude limits of a realm he doesn’t know, he slowly comes to a stop, hovering miles up in the air. From this height he can see how the orange-red earth stretches on for miles, the land covered with huge mountain ranges that are the size of his continents back home. Beyond the mountain range they’re currently staying in, he can see snow-capped peaks above and rich valleys below that are covered in thick woods. There are a few dark specks in the distant sky, but he can’t make out whether they’re more dwarven ships or actual flying creatures.

He takes his time, looping around in the sky, flying back towards the ground, pulling up again to just cruise around in the open air, letting his lungs fill with the freshness of it. The warmth of the sunlight on his face is more than welcome, Tony closing his eyes and just letting himself glide through the air. He isn’t sure how long he’s out there, but it’s certainly not long enough to make up for his time trapped in that fucking cave.

When he returns to the ground, he sees Brokkr standing outside of the hefty gates. He approaches slowly, trying not to look like the dog returning home with his tail between his legs.

“Hey,” he calls out, voice still a little scratchy. He clears his throat. “Sorry about that… If I caused an upset or something… Wasn’t my intention.”

The wrinkles around Brokkr’s eyes deepen. “No, no, nothin’ like tha’, Lad. Don’ ye worry yer li’l Midgardian head over such'a thin’. Loki sen’ me out here t’getcha.”

He rebuffs that nagging sense of guilt for ditching the god so suddenly. Maybe he wouldn’t have even had such an outburst if he had been allowed to leave their stupid prison cell that he called a  _ room _ . “Right, come to bring me back to him then?”

“Ac’shully, he tol’ me t’ come fetch ye an’ take ye down t’ the forges in the city.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Are you joking?”

Brokkr’s grin widens. “Nah. He insis’ed. Fixed up the door an’ he said t’was high time I show ye roun’ the good stuff.”

Tony is actually… kind of touched. Loki probably has some ulterior motives for actually doing something decent to benefit his well-being but… he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth.

He grins widely up at Brokkr, flying up to his eye level. “Let’s go.”

* * *

He doesn’t return back to their room for days. He’s in awe when Brokkr brings him down into the real cave system, a huge open cavern giving way to the city hidden inside the mountains. It’s bustling with activity, huge pavilions and open areas full of blacksmiths going to work. There are storefronts beneath tents where customers are welcome to peruse and test out the wares, anything from weapons to armor to utilitarian devices. There’s a constant sound of metal on metal and raucous voices, whether they’re filtering out from the taverns or the smith’s shops. 

Brokkr has his own sort of smithing co-op he runs, a guild made up of some of the best craftsmen the city has to offer. He leads Tony past all the men and woman slinging mead and ale and working around their anvils, tossing out half-assed introductions as they walk by.

He’s granted access to one of the closed-off forges, Brokkr allowing him some privacy away from all the madness. It’s a stone building with different floors, Tony given free reign over the forges on the first floor. It’s a wide rectangular space with all the fixings he’ll need to do proper work now, the dwarf even bringing him his half-built astrolabe from the room.

Word travels quickly of the Midgardian smith in their midst, dwarves outside of Brokkr’s guild coming by to see what he could possibly be up to. Most of them seem interested in his armor more than anything, and Tony is more than happy to show off a little.

When he’s not flying around the cavern and playing skeet shoot with the dwarves, he’s holed up in Brokkr’s forge, now determined to finish the astrolabe in the probably limited time he has left here. He starts to enjoy himself so much in this atmosphere that he almost forgets his urgency in wanting to get home as soon as possible.

Almost.

After falling asleep on the work bench more than once over the course of a few days for him and what probably equals just one day for the dwarves, Brokkr eventually convinces him to return to his bed to get a real night’s sleep. He feels dead on his feet by the time he turns back up to the familiar metal door, hesitating in front of it.

It takes Loki a few minutes to come to the door after he knocks, but it eventually swings open, the man looking sleep-rumpled behind it. He rubs at his eyes, blinking tiredly at Tony. “I was beginning to think you were never coming back.”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes before he can even think that Loki doesn’t deserve it. “I just… needed some air.”

Loki stares at him for a long moment before stepping aside and opening the door further to allow Tony entrance. “Understood. I trust you’ve been enjoying your time with the dwarves?” He makes a face as Tony walks past. “You certainly smell like you have. Are you drunk?”

“What? No, I don't even drink anymore,” Tony smells his shirt, realizing he reeks of some kind of alcohol. “Oh, yeah I think I got some booze spilled on me down by the forges. Those dwarves really know how to party.” He strips out of his clothes without even thinking twice about it, needing to rinse off all the sweat and grime that’s been building up for the past couple of days.

“What do you mean you don’t drink?” Loki asks, sounding amused. “Everyone drinks.”

“Yeah, well, I used to. But it was way too much. I realized I couldn’t keep going through life turning to a glass of whiskey every time I had to face my own shit or else it was going to kill me long before being Iron Man would.” Tony slips into the bath, immediately scrubbing away the soot from the forges off his skin. “Been sober for about four years now.”

“Sober…” Loki muses, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watches Tony with an interested expression. “Sounds awfully dreadful. You can’t even enjoy a glass of wine or a nice cocktail at a social gathering? Even just a sip?”

“Nope,” Tony says, cupping the warm water in his hands and splashing it into his face. “What, do you guys not have  _ alcoholism _ on Asgard?”

“No, I’m afraid that concept is strictly Midgardian,” Loki says with an odd smile. “Diagnosing shame to circumvent behaviors that indulge in the most primal desires is a very  _ human _ thing to do, I find.”

“Some people would call that just having a  _ conscience _ ,” Tony scoffs. “I’m guessing you were home sick when they were handing those out.”

“I have a conscience, I’m just not very good at listening to it.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Tony sighs, momentarily angry with himself for sympathizing with the nutcase yet again. He pushes himself up out of the pool, drying off and switching to his set of clothes that isn’t completely covered in scorch marks and grease stains.

He doesn’t even need to ask for Loki to move over as he crawls into bed, collapsing onto his back. Even this pathetic of a mattress feels like a dream after he spent the last few days squeezing in one-to-two hour naps on the stone surfaces in Brokkr’s forge. He begins to drift off almost instantly, but something makes him open his eyes again and turn to look at the man laying next to him.

He finds Loki staring back at him, his gaze not shying away this time. He’s laying on his back as well, hands calmly clasped together on his stomach as he looks at Tony with another unreadable expression on his face. “What?” Tony asks. He intends to sound irritated, but the word is soft and imploring when it leaves his mouth. He blames the fatigue.

Loki takes a moment to answer, green eyes vibrant even in the dim lighting as they flicker across Tony’s face. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he replies just as quietly, a smile quirking at one corner of his mouth. “I’m just thinking about how the first time we met, the first thing you did was pour yourself a drink and offer one to me. Maybe I would’ve accepted it had I known the possibility to share a glass of Scotch with you would be off the table one day.”

Tony can’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head. “Loki… If we ever get out of this fucking cave and back to Earth, I promise I’ll make you the best damn drink you’ve ever had.”

The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is the most genuine smile he’s seen on Loki’s face yet. 

* * *

All the fear Tony had of facing Loki’s scorn was gone come the next morning. He worried that upon returning Loki would snatch away his privileges again just because he could, but no such rug-pulling came. His good mood from the night before carried into the next morning, the two enjoying a breakfast together before Loki waved him off, practically pushing him out the door to go down to the forges and grant him his alone time in the room.

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice. He toys around with some new metals, learning some techniques from Brokkr and his fellow craftsmen over the next few days, and practically completes his astrolabe. At the end of his work day, he returns to the room, eats the leftovers that Loki saves for him, and trades sleepy conversation with the god until they both fall asleep at the end of their night. It feels almost…  _ domestic _ , in a way. In a fucked up, fever dream sort of way, at least.

He had gotten so used to the routine that once again, he had almost forgotten what they were even waiting on.

They’re finishing their dinner and arguing over the semantics of Tony cracking the code to time travel in their universe when a knock comes to the door. He regretfully has to abandon his explanation of using spectral decomposition to factorize the matrix of an inverted Mobius into a canonical form as Loki goes to answer it.

“Eitri, Andvari!” He greets, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. He quickly schools his demeanor, stepping aside to allow the dwarves into their room. “It’s about time you two showed up.”

“Aye, we figured there was nuttin’ wrong with teachin’ you some patience,” one of the dwarves says dryly, walking into the room with a heavy axe in one hand. He looks remarkably similar to Brokkr, so Tony assumes this is the brother Eitri he’s been hearing about.

“You know that isn’t my strong suit,” Loki replies sourly.

“Yes, we’re well aware,” the other dwarf sighs. He’s got light blonde hair and a much shorter and more kept braided beard than most Tony has seen so far. He also seems to be less muscular than the other dwarves, wearing a long emerald robe instead of the worker’s garments or armor that most of the Svartalfar seem to favor. He fixes deep blue eyes on Tony now, looking him over. “This is the Midgardian I assume?”

“No, it’s my pet Fenrir,” Loki replies sarcastically, moving to stand next to Tony. “Andvari, it’s not that I’m not brimming with joy upon finally seeing you, but there are some more pressing matters I require Eitri to tend to first,” he eyes the axe in the other dwarf’s hand, quickly raising his arms and holding the chains forth. “If you would be so  _ kind _ , dearest Eitri.”

Eitri rolls his eyes and steps forward. “Yeah, yeah, hold still,” he grumbles, pulling up a stool and having Loki lay his chains across it the best he can. He swings the axe with expert precision, breaking away each of the metal links until the chains fall apart. He then hooks the edge of the blade against each wrist and ankle cuff, Loki holding perfectly still and turning his face away as Eitri pries each restraint open, the metal falling to the ground with resounding thuds.

Loki shucks away the remaining scraps of metal, his posture changing completely now that he’s free. He stretches his limbs out, kicking a leg back and forth and swinging his arm in a wide arc to register his newfound mobility. “ _ Finally _ ,” he practically growls, that Scary Smile coming back to his face as he rubs at the raw redness around his wrists. He whirls around, now addressing Andvari. “Now, I am more than ready for you to remove  _ this _ nuisance,” he said, gesturing to the collar still strapped around his throat.

Andvari crouches down, beckoning Loki closer. He runs an index finger over the metal, pressing it gently against the latch on the side. Tony almost expects it to fall apart as easily as the chains had under Eitri’s axe, but of course things wouldn’t be that easy.

“Just as I feared,” Andvari mumbles. He pulls his hand back, shaking his head. “This is sealed with old Vanir magic. I’m assuming your father had it made with a very specific purpose in mind.”

Loki’s eye twitches imperceptibly. “Are you trying to tell me you can’t remove it? You’re joking.”

“I think we both know I’m not the joking type,” Andvari drawls. “No, the sealing magic on this is very ancient. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to attempt to remove it… You’ll have to go to Vanaheim.”

The sour expression on Loki’s face turns full on lethal now, his jaw clenched and teeth bared. “You very well know I cannot step foot in their realm. There must be another way.”

Andvari shakes his head definitively. “Afraid not. That thing is laced with more enchantments and wards than anyone around here would know what to do with.”

Loki takes advantage of his freed hands now, jumping up with more strength than Tony knew he had to grip the old dwarf by the beard and one ear, yanking him down to his level. Andvari lets out a grunt and collapses onto his side, Eitri immediately moving to his aid to pry Loki’s hands free. “You’re telling me,” Loki growls lowly, murder in his eyes. “That you two had me waiting for  _ weeks _ , insisting you could come home no sooner than today, only to tell me you  _ can’t remove it?! _ ” His volume raises to shouting by the end of it, spit flying off of his white teeth as he screams in the face of the dwarf.

Eitri eventually detangles Andvari from the feral Asgardian, helping the aged dwarf back to his feet. He looks slightly disheveled from Loki’s attack, but not like he was entirely unsuspecting it may happen. “Need I remind you that we didn’t part on the best terms last time you asked me for a favor?” Andvari asks calmly, smoothing out his robes. “Although… Had I known I couldn’t actually do anything to that hunk of metal around your neck I would’ve made you wait  _ longer _ .”

Tony jumps in when Loki goes on the attack this time, locking his arms around the man as he pulls out a knife and makes another swipe in Andvari’s direction. Without the suit he isn’t even close to matching Loki’s strength, but he manages to keep him at bay long enough for Eitri to usher Andvari to the door.

“Maybe ask Heimdall to send you there. I’m sure you’ve done  _ nothing _ to slight him or your Aesir kind as of recent,” Andvari adds on his way out, words laced with venom.

“You’re a hack and a fraud and you always have been!” Loki shouts out the open door. “I’ve told you before and it still rings true! You’re a two-bit magician who couldn’t even get by at children’s parties! You will rot in these caverns like the insignificant  _ eldhúsfífl _ you are!” He continues to yell what Tony assumes to be swears in a language he can’t understand, voice echoing down the hallway long after both dwarves have disappeared.

Loki runs out of insults to hurl after a few minutes, breathing hard in Tony’s arms. He jerks himself free of the hold, shoving Tony back away from him. “ _ Do not touch me _ ,” he seethes.

Tony rolls his eyes, holding his hands up and stepping away. “Whatever. You’re not the only one who was kept waiting for  _ nothing _ , you know.”

The look Loki shoots him is so cold in comparison to his lukewarm demeanor over the past few days that Tony practically flinches. “You are only here by proxy, Stark. I would like to see your temperament if you were unable to use an  _ essential _ part of who you are.”

“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows either, but you can’t totally lose it just because Plan A didn’t work,” Tony throws his hands up in exasperation. “If I were in your situation— which,  _ by proxy _ , I fucking  _ am _ — I’d start figuring out the next solution.”

“There is no next solution!” Loki yells at him. “Andvari was already my last resort as the only enchanter who wouldn’t attempt to kill me on sight. If this collar is as drenched in ancient Vanir magic as he says, then I have no hopes in ever removing it. I am banished from ever returning to Vanaheim and there isn’t a single Vanir who would ever  _ help _ me.”

Tony isn’t sure how to push his point considering he’s in way over his head with all this magic stuff. You’ll lose a lot more arguments than you’ll win if you can’t admit the other person knows more than you. “Maybe Andvari is wrong. Maybe there’s another way or someone else who can get it off—”

“There is  _ no _ other way given our circumstances. Don’t you think if I had any other options I would’ve gone to them instead of come to this subterranean hellhole full of brutes and drunkards? In case you forgot with your  _ old mortal age _ , I did just try and eradicate an entire race of people with an alien army and then proceed to escape from my prosecution with one of the most powerful objects in the entire history of the Nine Realms.”

He ignores the dig on his age, crossing his arms. “Then let’s use it. I know you’re tapped on magic or whatever, but I can try and teleport us with the Tesseract. I’ve been through a crash course on these stones, I know that we can try and share the brunt of its power to be able to use it properly. We can just warp back to Earth or one of the other realms and find  _ someone _ who can get that thing off of you.” It’s a long shot, but he has an inkling that whoever the 2012 Sorcerer Supreme is, they may be able to help and possibly even send Tony back to his timeline.

“If Odin is able to swallow his pride enough to admit his darling son lost his most valuable prisoner, he’s probably already placed a large reward on my head to bring me back alive. Half of the bounty hunters in the Nine are probably attempting to track me right now,” he growls bitterly, beginning to pace around the room. “All we can hope is that the Svartalfar here are more occupied with their little toys and weapons to try and collect Asgard’s coin.”

“If there’s as many guys after you as you say, they  _ will _ eventually find you. You can’t hide forever, and you’ll never get that collar off if you’re not at least willing to try. I doubt you’d rather be a sitting duck in this place you consider such a  _ hellhole _ rather than attempt to find another way.” Loki seems to be ignoring him now, continuing to pace back and forth with his arms crossed, not even acknowledging Tony’s existence. “You know, this whole coward act is really  _ pathetic _ . I shouldn’t be surprised that the all-mighty  _ god _ is finally showing his true colors.”

Loki stops mid-step, turning slowly to face him. Tony braces himself for a fight again, but it doesn’t come. This Loki— the one who just stares at him coldly, no emotion or light in his eyes— is somehow much more terrifying than the one who was strangling him in the bath a few weeks ago. He lifts his chin slightly mouth curling into a sickening smile. “Foolish men often mistake self-preservation as cowardice. Do not fall in line with such idiotic thinking or I may just have to dispose of you.”

He isn’t sure what it is that does it, whether it be the words themselves or the tone of Loki’s voice as he spits them onto Tony like he’s not worth more than the dirt beneath his shoe. All he knows for certain is that very insinuation of Loki’s words is enough to  _ piss him off _ . And there he is, sardonic little smile still in place like he’s still the one in charge.

In the end, it isn’t Loki who snaps at all, but maybe that’s what he wanted all along.

“So let me get this straight,” Tony starts, beginning to pace himself. “You force me to be your ‘protector’ in exchange for bringing me back to my time whenever we can get that fucking collar of of you— A deal that I don’t even know you’ll actually uphold because you’re literally the God of  _ Lying _ ! Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that not hours before we made this little arrangement, you attempted to kill me and my friends and also destroy the entire city of New York, causing countless casualties in the meantime. You make me sit around in this thirty-four point eleven inch diameter room— and  _ yes _ , I measured because it’s not like there was anything more interesting to do— all the while acting like  _ you’re _ the one stuck babysitting. You keep me as a prisoner, continue to lord the fact that you’re my only way home over my head, throw hissy fits when you don’t get your way, insult my intelligence, eye me up every time I’m naked, and now  _ threaten my life _ . All despite the fact that last time I checked,  _ you’re _ the powerless prick who’s currently Asgardian’s Most Wanted, and I’m literally the  _ only _ person right now who’s willing to protect you?”

Loki frowns slightly mulling his words over for a moment. “And your point?”

_ If I stay in this room, I’m going to snap his neck. _

Not wanting a murdered god on his hands, Tony simply walks out the door. Loki doesn’t attempt to pursue him, and he hears the soft echoing clang of the door closing behind him as he walks away.

Brokkr doesn’t ask any questions when Tony shows up at the forge. The normally friendly motley crew even keep their berth as Tony strides to the workshop in the back. Word must’ve spread quickly then. Either that, or he radiates more seething energy than he previously thought.

He works for hours on end, ineffectively fuming by himself. He earns a nasty burn on his hand for letting his anger distract him for too long, allowing himself a short meltdown of screamed swears and kicking over a bucket or two. Brokkr comes in to tend to his injury a few hours later, smoothing some type of pasty salve over his palm before wrapping a bandage around it. Tony doesn’t participate in the dwarf’s half-hearted attempts at conversation, muttering a soft but meaningful thanks when he’s done. Brokkr pats him on the head in return, telling him that he’s always got a place with them before he leaves Tony alone once more.

He falls asleep on the work bench that night, waking up with a start a few hours later to find a warm blanket laid on top of him and a bowl of cold stew on the table beside him. From the overall lack of metal clanging and voices coming from outside, he assumes it’s late in the dwarves’ evening. They’ve all put down their tools to go to the taverns for the night, some of them probably planning on returning shortly to continue their drunkenly inspired work for a few more hours before calling it quits until the next morning.

Feeling more resigned than he had before his nap, Tony gets off the bench, relights the torches in the room, and goes back to work.

He isn’t quite sure how much time has passed when he hears the wooden door creak open behind him. The astrolabe is practically finished at this point, Tony refining and balancing some of the final components to it. He supposes he’ll never know the functionality of it until he’s able to test it and make the necessary adjustments from there.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before. I’m just really not in the head space to deal with what my life is right now. I just needed to work for a while just so I don’t have to  _ think _ . But, hey, why don’t we settle if my Midgardian skills are up to your Svartaflheim standards and take this bad boy outside for a test run?” He admires his handiwork, putting his hands on his hips.

“As much as I would like to accept the offer, I don't think it was meant for me.”

Tony whirls around upon hearing Loki’s voice, only then realizing that when the door had opened, there were no heavy and lop-sided footsteps along with it. Loki had ghosted right in, standing only a few feet behind him in a long, dark cloak, hood pulled up over his head to shroud his face. Two pale hands come out of the folds of fabric to push the hood back, it still a little odd to see the god with full range of movement. Maybe it’s just the lack of heavy metal clinking together, but even that casual motion looks ridiculously graceful.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks flatly, turning back to hunch over the astrolabe with his magnifying glass just to pretend he has something to do other than pout in front of Loki.

“I came to work,” Loki deadpans. A couple of days ago, that would’ve made Tony laugh. Now, he just wants to deck the guy. “We need to talk, Anthony.”

“Do we?” Tony asks, carefully screwing in one of the dials, leaving the joint just loose enough so that he can adjust it over the engraved globe. “And would you stop calling me Anthony? I feel like I’m getting in trouble.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t out of it,” Loki points out. “I think we should start to weigh our options should I be captured and thrown into a prison cell on Asgard.”

Tony feels a migraine coming back on, pinpricks running along the base of his skull. “Why? You hired me on to protect you from threats, and I intend on keeping up my end of the bargain.”

“I’m sure you are,” Loki drawls. He can practically hear the eye roll in his words. “But we shouldn’t discount the possibility. Something could easily go wrong with an adversary that neither of us can be prepared for—”

“You don’t trust me to be able to handle it?”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can protect me, but I don’t think it wise to underestimate the forces against us here—”

“Frankly, I’m more concerned about you underestimating me—”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m trying to have contingencies in place! I know you’re used to being the hero who always prevails in the end—”

“I’m not!” Tony finally snaps, slamming his hands down on the table. Loose screws and metal bits go clattering onto the floor. He pushes his bench back away from the work table, finally turning to look back at Loki. His lips are pressed in a tighter line than usual, clearly trying to hold back whatever rebuttal is waiting on his silvered tongue. “I  _ lost  _ to Thanos, Loki. My entire world did. I’ve spent the last five years of my life resenting myself for the mistakes I made going into that fight. Maybe you would be right about me had that not happened. Before Thanos did what he did to us, I didn’t think there wasn’t a problem I couldn’t solve or a person I couldn’t save. This was my chance to fix the  _ unfixable _ , and I blew it the moment I grabbed onto you in New York.”

Loki sighs through his nose, Tony’s speech appearing to  _ frustrate _ him more than anything else. “Why do you want to return home so badly? You’re resourceful; you could find a way back to Midgard without my assistance. You could start your life over in this timeline if you really needed to.”

“That’s not an option,” Tony grits out through his clenched jaw. “I’m not ready to just roll over and give up.”

“Even if it could save you?” Loki questions, taking a few steps closer. “You say you’ve faced him once. I don’t think you’ve learned the lesson you think you have if after that you’re still willing to lead a suicide march into a hopeless war against trying to reverse the will of Thanos. You could all die in your attempt and that seems like a waste of a life as important as yours!”

_ That’s almost a compliment. _

Tony has to bite back half of the things he wants to say right now, having already erupted and given Loki too much information to one day use against him. “You think I’m just a stupid little human for wanting to reverse the outcome of a fight I already lost? Fine. I won’t argue with you there. But I’m not going back just so I can  _ try _ and get my own redemption. We already killed Thanos once and I felt no satisfaction knowing he was gone. This isn't about that. There are people in my time who need me, and I need them. I know this might be a foreign fucking concept to you, but some of us have people we actually  _ care  _ about. People that we would do anything to protect, even when the odds are stacked against us—”

“Morgan?”

Tony feels his blood run cold upon hearing her name leave Loki’s lips. His eyes shoot up, finding it impossible not to go on the defensive. “How do you—”

“You’ve been muttering their name in your sleep,” Loki answers softly. “It’s rather annoying, to be honest. Makes it very difficult to sleep next to you,” he adds quickly, lest Tony think he might actually have  _ empathy _ .

“Wow, my  _ sincerest apologies _ ,” Tony replies with venom, hunching back over to return to his work. “I’ve had just about enough of your complaints, so if that’s all you came here to do then you’re welcome to go the fuck back to the room.”

Loki doesn’t move from his spot, but he doesn’t say anything further which is probably about the closest thing to a compromise Tony is going to get. He ignores the god’s presence, the only sound in the room his hammering away at the heated metal for several minutes.

“Who are they?” Loki eventually asks, breaking his silence.

He considers ignoring the question altogether, but he falters on his next adjustment, one of the dials falling onto the table. Slowly, he lowers his tools, keeping his back turned. “She’s my daughter,” he confesses quietly, feeling something warm blossom in his chest. He forgot how good it felt to let himself think about her. Talk about her. Before he knows it, he’s smiling, despite everything going on right now. “Morgan is my daughter,” he repeats, just because he can.

Loki makes a nondescript sound behind him. Tony turns, resigned to abandoning the last few pieces of the instrument he had been working on before the other man showed up. Loki meets his eye, looking slightly uncomfortable but almost… sympathetic. “It must be very hard to be away from her.”

“It is,” Tony replies stiffly, sitting on the corner of his work table. “Not that you would know anything about being a parent and having to unconditionally care for another human being who relies on you for all their needs.”

A strange smile crosses his face. “You’d be surprised.”

Tony scoffs. “I feel sorry for whoever somehow fell for you long enough to let you knock them up.”

“Maybe I wasn’t the one doing the ‘knocking’,” Loki replies offhandedly, examining a small brass gear sitting on the table.

The comment throws him for a moment, but he quickly brushes it off. “I’m not even going to go there with you. I really don’t want to know.”

“Yes, it’s best we not,” Loki agrees, clearing his throat. He straightens back up, fixing his stare back on Tony with his hands carefully folded in front of him. “I came here to say… that I am sorry, Anthony.”

That almost throws him for more of a loop than the name drop had. Tony lifts a finger to the back of his ear, turning it towards Loki. “Come again?”

Loki’s heatless glare is predictable but almost a relief to see after all the very real anger in their arguments. “I will not repeat myself, don’t be coy.”

“Alright then,” Tony crosses his arms, sitting on the bench and patting the spot next to him. “Let’s hear this grand apology then. It’s probably a safe bet that someone as talkative as you has a little more than just ‘I’m sorry’ prepared.”

His glare doesn’t lessen, but he does come closer to sit beside him, neatly crossing his legs. “I shouldn’t have pretended Andvari’s inability to remove the collar has any more of an impact on my well-being than it does yours. I don’t do well with feeling like I’ve been cornered, and I trust you would feel similarly would you be the one in my position.”

Tony isn’t willing to admit he’s sympathized with Loki far more and longer than he had any right to, but he nods.

Loki’s eyes flicker over to him, some of the harsh lines of his face disappearing. “I’m not used to feeling this…  _ powerless _ . I’ve worked too hard and too long to prove myself as strong amongst my ranks. The childhood I had… it did not make it easy. I decided early on to take the skills that were frowned upon and become the best at them so that no one could deny my worth. I turned my liabilities into my strengths, and because of this situation I find myself in now… It feels like the cards have been flipped without my say.” He pauses for a moment, looking away from Tony. “I can now see that you feel the same has been done to you.”

Tony isn’t quite sure what to say to that. He’s still trying to decide whether or not Loki is being honest with him for once, or if he’s just trying to tug on his heartstrings and appeal to his humanity for some kind of nefarious hidden agenda. He has yet to be able to make a conclusion on the strength of his acting chops to know for sure.

He gets to his feet and holds a hand out to Loki. “Apology accepted.”

Loki’s eyes drop to his hand, now noticing the bandage wrapped around it. “What happened here?” He asks, taking Tony’s hand in both of his and examining it.

“Burnt it. It’s no big deal, Brokkr fixed me up—”

Loki pulls his hand a bit closer to his face, giving an experimental sniff. He scoffs. “You forget that despite his good intentions, Brokkr is still half-blind and not the sharpest tool in the forge. He used a salve for open bleeding wounds, not burns. You’re going to have some awful blisters if I don’t remedy his mistake. Sit.”

Tony listens to the order, sitting back on the bench while Loki goes over and starts rifling through the cabinets on the walls. He eventually finds what he’s looking for and returns to the bench, straddling it opposite Tony. Their knees are touching as Loki scoots closer, taking Tony’s hand back into his own. He makes quick work undoing the bandages, gently rubbing off the clear salve with a clean rag, Tony wincing only slightly as he cleans off his reddened skin. He watches Loki work with interest, each motion calculated and careful as cold fingers gently glance against his skin, green eyes attentive to the task at hand.

“Do all Asgardians have poor circulation, or is it just you?” Tony asks as Loki reapplies the correct balm, the cooling effect of it immediate.

A small smile crosses Loki’s face as if Tony said something particularly funny. “No, just me.” He re-wraps clean bandages around his hand, doing a much neater job than Brokkr had. The gauze is tighter now and criss-cross around his thumb joint and wrist, Loki weaving it between his fingers as well just to make sure it doesn’t come loose. “There, that’s much better. Now, I was thinking of our possible next course of action—”

“We’ll talk shop tomorrow,” Tony interrupts, flexing his fingers experimentally, glad he still has full mobility.

Loki’s brow furrows but he accepts the hand, letting Tony pull him back to his feet. “I thought you were keen on finding another solution.”

“I am, but I’m also confident that we’re going to find it. Today’s been stressful enough, and I know when it’s time to let the dust settle before we try and make a Plan B. You said it yourself, once we have your magic back, you can return me back to my world on the exact second I would’ve normally returned. What’s another day, right?”

The god’s green eyes narrow suspiciously. “What do you suggest we do until then?”

Tony grins, jerking his head at the golden instrument sitting on the table. “Still wanna accept that offer?”

* * *

Loki is much lighter without the heavy Svartalfheim chains, Tony finds as he scoops him up in his arms and flies him out of the cave. He’d been hesitant at first, not wanting to risk being seen on the outside, but Tony had a spot in mind that was secluded enough that he wasn’t too worried someone would be able to spot them.

Wrapped back up in his long, hooded cloak and holding the heavy astrolabe in his arms, Loki allows Tony to take him to an outcropping on the back side of the mountains, opposite of where they had come along. It’s fairly high up and secluded by the protruding cliff face on either side, almost like someone had taken a giant ice cream scoop to the side of the mountain when it had once been soft.

He extends the legs of the stand he had built to go along with the device, propping it up and making sure it’s perfectly balanced. He tests out all the moving parts of the astrolabe, pleased with the way every three-dimensional disk slides smoothly around the globe in the center, the different hands on each “clockface” sliding into the notches firmly with no wobble.

He steps back from it once it’s set up, looking to Loki. “Well, have at it.”

Loki raises his eyebrows slightly, glancing from Tony, to the astrolabe, back to Tony. “What do you expect me to do with this?”

“You were the one reading the book about it, I figured you’d know what to do.”

“Are you telling me you built a very complicated alien device from scratch and you don’t even know how to use it?”

Tony shrugs. “I know the general gist of what these things are used for on Earth, but I can’t really put that into practice here.” He looks up at the sky that has darkened to a deep violet color, stars beginning to come out of hiding and glittering overhead. He couldn’t have asked for better timing. “Besides, it works based off the constellations which I know  _ zilch _ about here in Svartalfheim. You’ve been reading that big book about it for a month; Don’t tell me you didn’t learn  _ something _ from it.”

Loki sighs, rolling his eyes to the heavens for a moment, hopefully because he’s examining the sky and not because he’s pondering a reason to  _ not _ throw Tony off the mountain. “Alright, let me have a go at it then,” he sighs in defeat, stepping up to the instrument. “This is a navigation system, so we need to know our own coordinates as well as have a destination in mind.” He begins to turn a few dials, rotating the globe in the center that is etched with all the constellations in the dwarven star system, engraved based on the map he had copied into his system from his glasses. “Making a few adjustments based on the current season… there we are. Now, come over here where I’m standing and look.” Loki takes him by the shoulders and brings him into the space he was occupying a moment before, instead stepping behind him. “Based on our current altitude, you can look through this eyepiece here and make sure this level matches up with the horizon…”

Tony is trying to focus on the instructions he’s given, but he’s suddenly hyper aware of the proximity between them. Loki’s breath is right against his ear, chin hovering over his shoulder as he explains the use of the device. Loki’s pale hands are a contrast against his own as the god wraps his arms around him to help guide his fingers to all the correct dials and spindles. He’s trying to line up the two levels like Loki said, but the more he leans back to get a proper look, the more conscious he is of pressing back into Loki’s chest.

One of Loki’s hands suddenly comes up to catch him by the chin, the grasp more gentle than he’s expecting. Loki leans in closer to guide his eyeline. “There,” Loki practically whispers, his warm breath caressing against his cheek. He’s perfectly lined up the sight that Tony was attempting to peer through, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusts the level accordingly.

A beat passes as he waits for further instruction, now realizing that Loki has gone dead silent beside him. He turns his face slightly, Loki’s thumb and forefinger still holding his chin. Loki’s staring at him with intent, eyes almost imperceptibly flickering down to his lips before he meets his eye again. They’re inches apart, Tony realizing that both of them are holding their breath.

“Don’t move,” Loki whispers, his other hand letting go of Tony’s wrist. He’s too nervous to even try and follow where it went with his eyes, unable to tear his gaze away from Loki’s. He hears the soft, metallic  _ schnick _ of one of Loki’s knives leaving its sheath, those acute green eyes suddenly freeing him as they slide off to a point somewhere just beyond.

He’s shoved to the ground suddenly, hearing a  _ whoosh _ of fabric as Loki’s arm extends from his cloak in a snap of motion, followed by the sound of a blade sinking into its intended target and a high-pitched wail.

He scrambles to his feet, turning to see a dark shape on the ground several feet away with the handle of Loki’s stiletto knife sticking out of it. Loki strides over to it without preamble, Tony quickly following to get a better look. It takes him a moment to understand what he’s seeing, the blade sticking into black feathers that seem to disappear into nothing. Slowly, as if ink is being poured over the creature from the blade itself, the thing seems to come back into reality. The hazy, mirage-like outline of a large raven crumpled on the ground slowly appears, the invisible form becoming corporeal again.

“One of Odin’s,” Loki explains, kneeling down next to the bird. “Invisible spies that are free to move between realms and report back to him. It’s thanks to them that he isn’t the same as any other Oaf King.” He reaches to take the blade out, pausing as he grips the hilt. His head tilts to the side in interest, fingers running over the feathers for a moment as he examines something Tony can’t see. “Although… you don’t belong to him, do you?”

Loki twists the blade harder into the bird, Tony watching as its body twitches helplessly with the motion. He almost has to look away from the act of animal cruelty, but then he watches as the head gives an unnatural twist, huge beak falling open, beady eyes suddenly going stark white and emitting a ghostly blue glow.

“Who sent you?” Loki asks the bird. No reply. He twists the knife harder. “Who. Sent. You?” He repeats through his teeth.

It’s been some time since Tony last questioned the mad god’s sanity, but that streak may be coming to an end.

There’s a few more seconds of silence before the gaping beak twitches again, and then a croaking voice leaves the downed creature before them. “ _ Loki of Asgard… _ ” it addresses. The voice is tinny and distant with an underlying grating tone like nails on a chalkboard. It sounds as if it was recorded on a low quality microphone and was now being played back to them via phonograph. “ _ We, the Elves of Niflheim, Tribe of Krækjeber, extend an offer of parley. We understand there is something you are trying to rid yourself of. Our mages have the tools to remove it, should you choose to accept our deal. Meet with us during the hour of twilight of the next sun cycle, at the Spring of Hvergelmir found at Yggdrasil’s root. _ ”

After the message ends, the light fades from the raven’s eye, and the beak slowly closes. One more twitch of the leg, then it’s nothing but still. Loki slowly pulls the knife free and straightens back up, the two of them just standing next to each other for a moment in shared silence.

“Well then,” Loki rubs the blade off against his pant leg, gesturing with it at the lifeless corpse of the bird. “Stark, I believe this is that  _ Plan B _ you were looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo get ready for some more plot and lore dump and LOADS more UST >:) Thank you everyone to the positive response so far!! I hope you guys continue to enjoy where this story is going, I'm having a blast writing it. Please let me know what you think so far! I'll be attempting to update every 1-2 weeks moving forward.


	4. Promise Me

“It sounds like a trap.”

“Oh, it’s  _ definitely _ a trap.”

“Then why are we doing this?” Tony sighs, quickening his pace so he can keep up with the long-striding god.

Loki flashes him a quick grin as they round another corner. “Because traps are my specialty, both in laying and escaping them.”

After the raven’s message, Loki immediately sprang back into his old persona. No longer the wallowing pessimist, he ordered Tony to fly him back to the room immediately so he could get redressed and gather his things. Tony already has everything he needs with the arc reactor on his chest, only regretful that can’t say goodbye to Brokkr. He had come to really appreciate the dwarf as a true friend during a time that he felt so alone, but he understands that there’s no time when this opportunity has fallen into their lap.

_ Best pack that up, looks like it may get some practical use after all,  _ Loki had told him, Tony now stuck lugging the astrolabe along as he follows Loki’s lead through the caverns. They stick to the shadows, Loki keeping himself covered beneath the dusty old cloak as they sneak through the tunnels. Tony doesn’t ask where they’re going, not even sure if Loki knows considering he only left the room once to come and apologize.

As they come into a spacious cavern filled with the flying boats they had been brought into the city on, he realizes that Loki is apparently a multitasker.

Loki goes over to one of the large crates, pushing back the lid and reaching inside to fill his arms with what look like different traveling supplies wrapped in neat bundles. “Come on,” he urges impatiently, climbing into one of the smaller, two-man ships. He leans over the side to first take the astrolabe and then give Tony a hand up, pulling him aboard with a surprising amount of ease. Tony’s been tossed around enough by Thor to make the connection that despite his looks, Loki may be just as strong as his brother. Maybe he’s gotten lighter.

Loki uses a knife to pry open the control panel, immediately beginning to slice and splice wires like he's done it a million times.

Tony keeps glancing over to the mouth of the cave, keeping an eye out for any possible guards. “You know, I think we probably could've asked Brokkr to  _ borrow _ a ship…”

“Oh, but this way is so much more  _ fun _ ,” Loki purrs as he finishes his work on the ship’s wiring. Suddenly, the entire thing comes to life, bottom of the hull emitting a slow hum as it rises a few feet in the air. Loki straightens up, holding his hands out over the holographic control panel as it flickers on. He flashes Tony a quick grin. “Besides, this is Andvari’s  _ personal _ ship.”

_ Of course. _

Now that they’ve acquired their getaway vehicle, stealth apparently goes out the window. Tony has to hold onto the sides of the ship for dear life as Loki drives like an absolute madman, the ship shooting forward and only gaining speed as he maneuvers it through the tight caverns. Tony is both terrified and delighted by the thought of what he could do behind the wheel of one of his sports cars.

Loki somehow manages to take an escape route that doesn’t have them crossing the path of any patrolling guards. The tunnel they’re in starts to taper off, shrinking in size as they take a path of darkness, no torches having been posted down this far. He can’t see any end in sight, feeling like he’s on a roller coaster as the wind whips past his ears, barely able to see Loki’s silhouette in the slight glow of the ship’s controls.

“Hold on!” Loki yells over his shoulder, as if Tony hadn’t been this entire time. Right when he’s expecting them to crash into a dead end, suddenly they’re out in the open air again. Comparing the ride to that of a roller coaster isn’t a far off comparison, as suddenly Loki pushes on a lever and they’re careening forward, the ship at almost a ninety degree angle as they shoot down towards the ground, parallel with the mountain side. The ride is rough as the hull skitters against a few rocks jutting out from the cliff face, Loki taking the hits in stride and readjusting accordingly. Tony’s slammed from one side of the boat to the other, barely managing to keep the astrolabe from flying out as they descend.

Loki eases the ship back up as they finally reach the ground, Tony’s stomach doing backflips even after they’re righted again. Loki lowers the speed as they reach the mountain pass, making a beeline for the horizon where Tony can see the wasteland transitioning into forest.

“Remind me to pack a vomit bag next time,” Tony grouses from the back of the ship, running a hand through his hair as the nausea begins to fade.

“Oh, don’t be such a child,” Loki sighs, putting the ship into some kind of auto-pilot mode so he can step down from the controls. He sits down across from Tony and starts digging through the supplies he had grabbed for them. “I have an idea of where we need to go, but your astrolabe there should come in handy trying to find the exact location, as it’s not exactly something that’s going to be found on any standard map or navigation system. We need to wait until we’re further out from the city before we stop though. Stay vigilant.”

And vigilant he stays. Now that night is beginning to crest, Tony is acutely aware of all the stories he’s been hearing both from Loki and the dwarves about all the nasty creatures that tend to come out once the world’s light fades. He keeps the armor on for the sole fact that the temperature has dropped dramatically as the sky continues to darken above them. He can see his breath leaving his mouth, surprised that someone as bitchy as Loki isn’t complaining more about the cold, seemingly unphased as he keeps an eye out on either side of their ship.

Once they’re a safe distance away from the mountains, the edge of the forest coming more into view, they stop the ship. Tony does a quick lap around a mile radius, waiting for any living creatures to light up the HUD. There’s a bit of reverberation coming from beneath the earth, Tony seeing the vague heat-shape of what appears to be one of those sand serpents Loki was talking about. The threat ebbs as he watches the shape continue to burrow deeper into the ground, moving away from where they’re stationed.

Loki has the astrolabe set back up in the middle of the ship when Tony returns, quickly giving him a new job in helping him navigate. Despite not being able to make heads or tales of the dwarven script on the controls, Tony manages to pull up a navigation map and is able to give Loki the coordinates he requests. This is why he loves numbers. Numbers are universal. The holographic map is intuitive in a way that makes him feel like he’s home, Tony able to mark a route to what Loki believes to be the destination. With occasional stops to rest factored in, it looks like they should reach their meeting place at the requested time.

“Rest,” Loki commands as they pack the astrolabe back up, tucking it away in the storage space in the hull of their vessel. “We’ll need to take turns when it comes time to sleep, and your mortal body needs more than I do. I’ll wake you when I’m ready.”

For once, Tony doesn’t argue with him.

Curled up on the floor of a boat with nothing but a scratchy blanket wrapped around him is hardly comfortable, but it’s not the worst conditions Tony’s had to deal with. The movement of the ship itself is uncannily smooth, the dwarves having perfected many aspects of their methods of transport. If he couldn’t hear the sound of the air rushing by them as he falls asleep, he’d think they aren’t moving at all.

When he wakes up much later, they  _ have _ stopped, and he is alone. Slowly shifting into a sitting position, he squints into the darkness, eyes taking a moment to adjust. The boat is on the ground, between two large tree trunks, the bark a deep burgundy and branches barren of leaves. He sees a source of blue light a few feet away, Loki sitting down next to a rock the size of a basketball that emits the soft glow to light only the immediate area.

Tony’s slight grunts as he clambers out of the ship alert Loki, his head snapping in his direction immediately. When he sees it’s just the struggle of a man who’s not as young as he used to be, he visibly relaxes.

“Thought you were going to wake me when it was my turn,” Tony mumbles as he walks over, blanket still wrapped around him. He stretches his arms over his head and twists his torso this way and that to feel that satisfying pop in his spinal cord.

“I was,” Loki retorts. “I’m not tired yet. I was going to let you sleep longer.”

“How kind,” he replies just as dryly, coming to sit down text to him. “Well I’m awake now, should we hit the proverbial road again?”

Loki glances up to the sky, frowning and shaking his head. “The clouds are blocking any light from the moons. The nights are long here, as you’re already aware. It should pass in a few hours, then it will be safer to travel. We’ve made good time, we can afford to stop for a few hours before we’re caught off guard.”

“Fine by me,” Tony sighs. “You know, I still don’t really know anything about what we’re doing. Now’s probably a good time as any to fill me in. It’s just a shame we don’t have stuff for S’mores.”

Loki flashes him a strange look. “Some more of what?”

“ _ S’mores,  _ Loki. It’s short for— Actually, I have no idea what it’s short for. I’ll have to Google it once I get home. Anyway, it’s just a treat we Midgardians like to enjoy when camping. It’s like a mini sandwich of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate that you toast over a fire.”

“Sounds…” Loki wrinkles his nose. “Messy.”

“Oh, it is. But, kids love ‘em.”  _ Mine especially _ , he adds mentally, feeling that pang in his chest again that he gets every time something inadvertently reminds him of Morgan. “Anyway, it’s normally accompanied by a scary story or two, but I’ll take a crash course in Norse mythology.” Loki looks less than receptive to the idea. Tony scoots a bit closer, nudging him with his leg. “Come on, just gimme the Sparknotes version. Plus, I like hearing that sexy accent of yours.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Loki sighs, but relaxes his posture a little. “Where do I begin…” He glances around for a moment before finding a thin stick on the ground, holding it delicately between his fingers as he begins to draw a diagram in the earth between them. He starts drawing oblong ovals, perfectly symmetrical and only slightly overlapping one another. “In our cosmos, there are nine realms. Vanaheim, where the Vanir or ‘old gods’ reside... Asgard, where the Aesir made a home when they split from the Vanir in a Great War long, long ago... Midgard, obviously, where you and the rest of humanity live… Jotunnheim—” Loki pauses for a moment before continuing. “Home of the Giants. Musphelheim, the primordial world of fire, and on the opposite end, Niflheim, the land of ice and mist. Long ago, when the first elves were born as a race, they resided here on Svartalfheim with the dwarves. Unfortunately, there was a split between darkness and light, as there is in most things. The light elves created a new, heavenly home in Alfheim, while the dark elves were banished to Niflheim.”

“And the ninth realm?”

A rueful smile. “Hel. A similar concept to the Hell of your Midgardian Christianity. It’s also where my supposed sister lives. Or  _ lived _ , I suppose, in your timeline.” He finishes the ninth oval and then draws a deep line through the center of them, adding lines that branch off from it. “In the center of all creation, is the Mother Tree, Yggdrasil. Travel between the realms is possible with a few different methods. One you’ve seen in action is the use of the Space Stone. Another is the Bifröst, which is the bridge that links Asgard and Midgard. For some of the realms more than others, there is a more tangible link due to their origin. Niflheim and Svartalfheim are a prime example. There are points in both realms where Yggdrasil’s roots pass through, and during the right time and circumstance, creatures from the two realms can meet in a place that’s not quite one realm or the other, but somewhere in between. I believe your people refer to it as the ‘Magic Hour’ in certain mythologies, a time where spirits can move freely in and out of the material plane.”

“So it opens a door,” Tony nods, familiar enough with the concept. “Why can’t we use these places to realm-hop since we can’t use the Space Stone?”

“It’s not quite a door opening so much as a room that doesn’t really exist with two doors on either side that only creatures who entered through it may exit from. We cannot travel to Nifhleheim in the same way that the dark elves are not able to waltz right into Svartalfheim whenever twilight hits.”

“And you really think their offer is legit?” Tony asks skeptically. “You did just say that your dad probably has a bounty out on your head, and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that the name  _ dark elves _ implies they might not be the good guys here.”

“ _ Goodness _ is relative,” Loki scoffs. “Unfortunately, our options are limited to the slim-to-none range at this point. I don’t exactly  _ trust _ the dark elves, but they have been my allies in the past. There was a time I frequented Niflheim to learn some of their dark magics in exchange for my knowledge of the outside realms. They trade in secrets and favors more than anything else; They would have no interest in Asgard’s money.”

“What kind of favors do you think they might ask for?” Tony still doesn’t feel good about going into this situation half-cocked, but Loki seems confident enough.

“I don’t know yet, but knowing the tribe that sent the raven, it’s going to be a hefty one,” Loki sighs. “But no matter the cost, having my magic back will be worth the risk. And if they try to swindle me, I’ll just have my bodyguard blast them to bits.”

Tony snorts. “I thought you were in good standing with these guys. Even if it’s to protect us, I don’t think me  _ blasting them to bits  _ is going to go over well.”

Loki laughs and relaxes against the back of a tree trunk, crossing his ankles out in front of him. “Lucky for me, the elves aren’t keen on banishment as a method of retribution considering they themselves were banished to the Realm of Mist in the first place. I would have to do a lot more than have a powerful Midgardian rain fire upon them for them to decide to sever ties with me completely.”

He smiles at the compliment, rubbing a hand over his cheek to mask it in case Loki realizes the slip up. Tony leans back against the same tree, rearranging the blanket so that it covers both of their legs. Loki still hasn’t given any indication that he’s cold, but he sees the god sneakily tuck his hands beneath the rough-hewn blanket. “Alright, so let’s say this meeting doesn’t go off without a hitch. What’s Plan C?”

There’s a long exhale from beside him. Loki’s eyes are closed now, the soft glow of the rock in front of them casting dark shadows over his sharp features. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“That sounds like you have one,” Tony prompts, but Loki doesn’t indulge him further. “You said our options are pretty limited at this point. Just how many of these realms are you banned from anyway?”

A small smile spreads across his face. “Well I’m fairly certain I’m not welcome on Midgard so I suppose that makes… Four officially, but six total for places I would never step foot on, those being Hel, where I hope to avoid as long as possible, and Jotunnheim, sworn enemy of the Aesir.”

“Fair enough. What did you do to get the permanent boot from the other four?”

“Those are very  _ long _ stories, Tony,” Loki chuckles, the sound soft in his throat.

“Oh, please, like you’re not dying for a good monologue…” He lets his own eyes shut as well, nudging Loki with an elbow beneath the blanket. “Come on, just until one of us falls asleep.”

“Very well. We’ll start with the Vanir, as my expulsion from Vanaheim is what got us into this situation in the first place...”

Tony falls asleep first. Despite getting a nap in already, he drifts off somewhere between tales of Loki pissing off the wrong fire god of Musphelheim and going too far with his practical jokes on the elves of Alfheim. A gentle but persistent nudge wakes him after a few hours, his head pillowed against Loki’s shoulder.

He jolts back into a sitting position, wiping at the corner of his mouth to make sure he didn’t drool on the man. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles sleepily, blinking into the darkness.

“It’s fine,” Loki responds. “You just have to return the favor now.”

Before his eyes fully adjust, he feels Loki shifting next to him, laying down on the ground before placing his head in Tony’s lap. His arms awkwardly hover for a moment before he relaxes them, letting one gently come to rest on Loki’s side.

“I should only need a few hours rest. Wake me when the sky is clear,” Loki says around a yawn, nestling his head on top of Tony’s thighs.

He looks up at the sky and still sees nothing but pitch black, the clouds still shrouding any celestial source of light from above. Once his eyes adjust it does seem a bit brighter than before, now able to see past the light of the glowing rock beside them.

During his watch he stays vigilant, listening for any slight rustle or sound. It’s eerily quiet, no wind whistling through the tree branches or sounds of woodland creatures. He keeps a portion of the HUD over an eye, the nanomachine’s detection capabilities superior to his own. It’s hard to not feel antsy just sitting out here, but for some reason Loki’s presence keeps him grounded. Tony’s always found comfort in another body laying next to him. Anytime his thoughts start to veer towards anxiety and fear, he concentrates on the sound of Loki breathing in his lap, settling a hand over the man’s ribs so he can feel the steadying rise and fall of his chest.

His hand drifts into playing with Loki’s hair as the sky starts to lighten above them. Double checking the time on the HUD, about five hours has passed. Face more visible to him in the dimness, Tony looks down at Loki, trying to gauge when the right time to wake him would be. The god’s face is peaceful as he sleeps, no harsh lines to his expression or movement beneath his eyelids. He’s perfectly still, almost like a statue. He certainly looks like one, features sloping and aristocratic, caught somewhere between masculine and feminine, looking like they were cut straight from marble. He’s never really had a reason (or an excuse) to openly stare at Loki for so long, normally admonished by the other man’s harsh gaze. He’s sort of… pretty.

Tony tears his gaze away with a soft sigh, looking back towards the sky to question his sanity for a few hours more.

Loki begins to stir some time later, actually startling Tony as he sits up suddenly, eyes immediately hyper aware as he looks around them. There’s no drowsiness to his process, hastily getting back to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. He looks down at Tony with a quirked eyebrow. “I thought I told you to wake me once it was light out again.”

“You seemed like you could use the sleep,” Tony shrugs before getting to his feet. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re just trying to scare me with all this talk about the creatures that come out at night. I didn’t hear a peep.”

Loki just smirks at him and rolls up their blanket, tucking it under an arm as he walks back to the ship. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

To be completely fair, Loki is right about that.

Despite the ringed moons above shining down on them, it’s still very much night. They keep the ship relatively low to the ground, moving through the forest slow enough for Loki to navigate them between the sparsely placed trees. Not ten minutes into the journey, they hear the snapping of wood from their right. All Tony is able to catch is a glimpse of glowing orange eyes and rows of sharp, spit covered teeth before the ship is pulling up at a sharp angle, Loki bursting through the would-be canopy to get out of the monster’s reach.

The next few days of travel is filled with almost encounters like this, both of them staying vigilant as they journey onward, sticking to the skies until something horrendous with wings swoops down, and then dipping back into the forest until one of the creatures lurking along the ground decides to take interest in them. Tony stays suited up, shooting a few blasts at any creatures that get too close, not so much to kill rather than  _ deter _ . There’s a couple of close calls where he has to jump out of the ship to better deal with some of the creepy-crawlies of the woods, or distract the avian beasts long enough for Loki to navigate their ship elsewhere while Tony plays the mouse in this cat-and-mouse scenario.

“We should sleep in the ship tonight,” Loki says as Tony returns from doing another flight around the general area to search from any potential threats. Other than a herd of roaming bison-like creatures in the distance, the vicinity seems relatively calm. They’ve reached a butte in the middle of a tundra-like area, finding a notch in the side of the crop of elevated earth for them to tuck themselves into. “Mostly because it’s only going to get colder moving forward and we’ll want the body heat. It should be safe enough for both of us to get a full rest tonight, but if something should approach, we’ll be able to make a quick getaway.”

Tony rids himself of the suit, landing on the small strip of the outcropping not being taken up by the mass of the ship. Loki is just finishing layering their blankets and extra clothes into a makeshift bed in the bottom of the gondola. The thing isn’t very wide, and Tony doesn’t miss the implication of how they’ll need to sleep in this scenario.

Loki gets settled himself, rolling onto his side to make enough room. When Tony doesn’t immediately join him, he glances over his shoulder. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”

“Sorry,” Tony mutters. He calls forth the nanomachines to line the inside of the ship with heating panels, the small octagon-shapes linking together and giving off a soft red glow.

“Good idea,” Loki hums as Tony climbs into the ship behind him, awkwardly trying to get settled himself. 

He lays down, finding it impossible to not be pressed right up against Loki’s back. He does his best to keep all his extremities to himself, one arm tucked under him and the other resting along his own body, gripping the material of his pants so he isn’t tempted to let it wrap around Loki’s slim waist. The natural curve of their bodies fitting together like this is hard to fight, Tony keeping his legs straight so there’s no dip for Loki to settle his hips back into.

“You can  _ relax _ a little, Stark. I don’t bite unless you ask,” Loki grumbles after a few minutes of silence.

Immediately trying to banish any thought of the scenarios in which he’d be asking Loki to bite him, Tony does allow himself to relax a little. Loki wiggles a bit, pulling the blankets tighter around them and pressing himself back into Tony almost like an invitation. Hesitantly, he drapes his arm over Loki’s middle and allows one of his legs to slip between Loki’s.

“There,” Loki practically purrs, teasing him. “Isn’t that much better? You act as if you’ve never slept with another man before.”

“I  _ have _ ,” Tony answers almost too defensively, earning a chuckle out of the god. Tony can’t help but laugh himself, shaking his head. “Although I guess it’s been a while.”

“Used to sharing a bed with the mother of your child, I suppose,” Loki comments. 

Tony hesitates, closing his teeth around the reply ready to bubble forth. Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but it almost sounds like Loki’s  _ baiting  _ him. Frankly, Loki almost  _ always _ sounds like that. He takes the bait anyway. “We’re not together anymore. Not really.”

Loki shifts a little in his arms. He can almost  _ hear _ the eyebrow raise. “Not really?”

“It’s, uh, well, it’s complicated,” Tony sighs, his exhale ruffling the curls of Loki’s hair in front of his face. “We’re divorced officially as of a couple of years ago, but we still live together, just stay in separate rooms of the house. Morgan is only five, we don’t want her to feel like anything’s changed or like her parents don’t love her or each other.”

“The separation was amicable then?” Loki asks. He either sounds genuinely curious, or genuinely like he’s fishing for more info to possibly use against Tony at a later time.

“Yeah, things hadn’t been the same between us for… for a while now,” Tony swallows down the sudden lump in his throat, thinking about all the nights spent crying and screaming at each other, all of it because of Tony and his quick decisions resulting in broken promises. “I think we both thought getting married would fix things, and when it didn’t, we had a kid. It was like slapping a bandaid over a stab wound.”

Loki hums in interest. “Midgardian concept of marriage and divorce always did fascinate me. Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Tony answers with confidence. “Especially not having Morgan. If I didn’t have her… I’m not sure what I would do. She’s my entire world. And Pepper… she’s still my best friend and my partner in everything. She’s seen me at my worst and pulled me out of it. We just… fell out of love. I was too difficult for even someone as patient as her, I guess,” he laughs.

“You are  _ extremely _ difficult; It’s no wonder she left you,” Loki agrees, sharing in the humor. “But of all the Midgardian heroes I could’ve gotten stuck with… I suppose you weren’t the  _ worst _ option. I would even dare say I’m almost beginning to  _ like _ you.”

Tony snorts and lets his eyes close, letting himself settle in a little closer to Loki, his arm tightening over his stomach. “We need to work on your compliments.”

* * *

  
  


As they get closer and closer to their destination, it becomes harder and harder for Tony to think of Loki as his enemy. This man he’s spent the last few weeks with, the one he’s slept next to, fought and argued with, worked alongside, had an almost-moment on top of a mountain with— it’s nearly impossible to equate him to the villain he knew over a decade ago. Maybe these new aspects to Loki that he’s seeing are the seeds of the one Thor had told them about in present day. This is the Loki that allows himself to smile between the smirks, joke and tease instead of berate and threaten, uses his silver tongue to speak of his interests open and honestly. As much as he wants to brush it off and leave Loki pigeon-holed as some heartless, pure evil monster, he just can’t do it as he sees more of what he so desperately wants to be Loki's true nature. Maybe he’s still too much of a naive optimist.

All Tony knows for certain as that he much prefers  _ this _ Loki to the one that wanted to wipe out countless innocent lives on Earth.

“Why did you do it?” Tony asks him, the two of them sitting side by side on the edge of a mesa, huddled close with a blanket wrapped around them as they watch the long-awaited sunrise. They’ve reached the half-way point of the journey now, the dark velvety sky beginning to recolor with streaks of vibrant red and yellow. “Working with Thanos to destroy Earth… why?”

He doesn’t really expect Loki to answer. Sure, over the past month and some change they’ve been opening up to each other bit by bit, but they also avoided the topic of their individual “sides”, only alluding to the line drawn between good and evil that they fall on either side of. Loki has been especially secretive, always stopping himself or deflecting when he starts to give Tony too much insight.

Loki meets his eyes for a moment, something darkening in his gaze. He turns his face back towards the horizon, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. “I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer that would be very pleasing to hear.”

“Since when have you ever cared about what I think?” Tony asks, attempting to be light-hearted. It doesn’t seem to land, Loki’s frown only deepening as he continues to stare straight ahead. “Loki… My opinion of you isn’t going to change, I just… I want to understand, especially now that I’ve met Thanos and I know his motivations. I don’t care what the answer is, as long as it’s the truth.”

Loki folds his hands in his lap, schooling his expression back into one of indifference. “Funnily enough, it was the truth that led me to Thanos in the first place… I had been lied to my entire life. Everything I knew: my upbringing, my childhood, my promised future, all of it was a fabrication of Odin’s, yet another tool to reassert his power and remind those who were not worthy of his time nor his love that in the grand scheme of things, they did not matter. When the exposure of his lies came to a head between Thor and I, I decided to cast myself out. I wanted no part in that golden city of corruption. I ended up somewhere…” Loki seems to lose his train of thought for a moment, the normally well-spoken god suddenly at a loss for words. “...Somewhere very far away. Somewhere cold. Desolate,” He shakes the glassy look out of his eyes, swallowing down whatever unfortunate memories before continuing. “Thanos found me. He was impressed by my… ambition. He wanted to bestow upon me a reward I deserved… A true throne for me to sit upon and people to rule over— my birthright. The idea of gaining everything I was promised and more, and doing so by leading an army and forcing your people to bend the knee out of fear and recognition of my greatness… there is nothing I desired more. Your people were destined to be ruled, and I wanted to be the one who took that seat of power, no matter the cost.”

It’s not Tony’s place to criticize his methods and defend his people as not being any less-than just because they weren’t born or bred into some kind of alien royalty. He isn’t lying when he tells Loki he wants to hear him out and really understand. The last thing he needs is to enrage Loki all over again and erase all the progression they had thus far. “Did you really believe what Thanos promised you?”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Loki.”

“Not always,” Loki replies hoarsely, for the first time sounding truly defeated, no more traces of bravado in his voice. “You would be surprised as to the kind of deals you’re willing to take when you have nothing else to lose, not even yourself.”

Tony is quiet for a few moments, really allowing Loki’s words to sink in. It’s not his place to poke and prod at whatever trauma Loki suffered to have him put his faith in a psychopath like Thanos. He thinks back to that moment eleven years ago when the six of them had beared down on the broken god, a united front that had overcome the odds within their own group as well as the ones against them. “When you knew you had lost… You didn’t seem all that distraught. Thor slapped those chains on you and told us he’d be bringing you home and you almost looked… pleased.”

Loki is silent for a few more moments, Tony worrying he hit a nerve with insinuating it was his intention all along to be captured and be taken back home with his brother he claims to hate so much. When he finally turns to face him, Tony’s shocked to see tears shining in the god’s eyes, genuine fear reflected in those pools. “Anything would be better than having to return to Thanos as a failure. I’d rather have been imprisoned in the place I had fought so hard to escape from than face a fate worse than death at the Mad Titan’s hands.”

Tony swallows, feeling his own throat close up with sympathy. He’s still haunted by the chilling echo of Thanos’ voice that creeps through his own nightmares, his wish that he hoped the world would remember him. “Well,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat. “Now you won’t have to face either once we get these elves to take that collar off.”

Loki blinks away his tears, flashing a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Even if I evade capture on Asgard, Thanos will be seeking his vengeance and it will be inescapable.”

“All you have to do is outrun him for the next six years or so and then you’ll be golden,” Tony says with a shrug.

Loki glances sideways at him, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. “What’s going to happen six years from now?”

Tony grins back at him. “Six years from now, my friends kill the son of a bitch.”

* * *

Their travel becomes less perilous now that the land is filled with light, most of the threatening creatures retreating to their dark dens until the next nightfall. They’re back in an open plain area, Tony able to see the tiny shape of mountains in the far off distance that apparently house the spring they’re looking for. After taking out the astrolabe one more time just to make sure they’re still on the right track, Loki confirms that they should arrive before dusk.

At the end of this extended day, their time together will be coming to an end. One, maybe two more sleeps, and then he and Loki will be going their separate ways. A day that Tony had once feared would never come, now he’s almost disappointed to see so close.

He wonders if Loki is thinking about it as much as he is. He doesn’t seem any more quiet than usual, the two of them sitting in opposite ends of the ship while it’s on auto-pilot. They play a game of Loki trying to come up with things Tony can’t make his nanobots form themselves into, a game in which Tony doesn’t lose a single round of. Tony asks Loki a few more questions about what the other realms are like in comparison to Svartalfheim. Maybe after this Thanos business has ended, Tony will retire and just hitch a ride with Thor for some inter dimensional travel vacation time. If he brings back fairy-made souvenirs from Alfheim as souvenirs for Morgan, he’s pretty sure he’ll be dad of the year.

Despite the cold not being nearly as fierce, they don’t change their method of sleeping in the ship together, only alternating who gets to be the big or little spoon. Tony realizes how desperately he’s been craving the closeness of another person. Feeling Loki’s steadying breaths in the expansion of his chest pressed against him helps him not only fall asleep but  _ stay _ there. He complains about Loki’s hair tickling his face and getting in his mouth when they sleep, but in the same breath presses his face closer into the soft waves to get more of that intoxicating scent into his nostrils. He wakes up to feel Loki’s cold fingers splayed across his abdomen, having slipped under his shirt in the night, whether intentionally or not. And he definitely spends a few of these nights trying to fight his body’s outward desire to let Loki know just how much he likes the skin-on-skin contact.

The sky is just beginning to darken again when they make it to the root of Yggdrasil. Tony’s breath is literally taken away when they crest over one of the taller peaks, able to see the valley hidden below. The mountains make an almost complete ring around a huge lake right in the center of it, walled in by the crescent shape of the formation. The surface of the water is so smooth it looks almost like a giant mirror placed in the ground, reflecting the fiery colors of the sky above it. There’s a small island in the center of the lake, gnarled trees growing from the onyx black earth with a clearing in the center.

They park their ship in a nook halfway down the mountain’s cliff face, Tony doing a quick lap around the circle of mountains just to make sure there’s no one else around who may interfere. He flies down to the island if only to get a closer look, not letting his feet touch the blackened ground. Upon closer inspection of the clearing, he can see what looks like a silvery root of a tree growing out of the center of the island, the winding roots almost vein like, twisting out of the “heart” and tapering off towards the edges of the land.

“All clear,” he announces to Loki upon his return, the other man just finishing setting up the bed for the night.

He pulls out the last of their rations, offering the bag to Tony first. “Good. We should be well-rested before dusk. I’m not sure what kind of deal the dark elves are so anxious to make, but you should be prepared for a fight just in case.”

He sits in the bottom of the ship next to Loki, accepting the little dried cubes of meat. “What’s the game plan there? From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like they’re going to rely on brute strength.”

“No, but they are powerful mages, which is much more versatile and detrimental to both our safety— No, I’m fine, you eat,” he says when Tony offers the bag to him, gently pushing his hand away. “Their raven wasn’t able to report back, so they shouldn’t know I’m with anyone. I should appear to go in alone, but you should stay posted nearby, possibly in the trees if you can stay well-hidden enough.”

Tony nodded, having thought of the exact same thing. “The nanomachines have a stealth option with my retro-reflective panels. I’ll be practically invisible.”

“They may still be able to detect your presence beyond just sight, but hopefully they’ll be focused on me,” Loki sighs, staring down at the island below. “I’ll need you to trust me to make the negotiation before you come shooting in to play hero. Do not expose yourself unless I am in  _ immediate _ danger. I can handle myself against a few verbal and physical threats.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll fly in and pluck you right out of there as soon as shit hits the fan. We’ll be fine,” he reassures him.

Loki doesn’t  _ look _ very reassured, but he gives a stiff nod and settles back into the boat, looking up at the sky above them.

Tony follows his gaze, seeing the dark spot in the sky that is Nidallevir. He wonders if Brokkr is up there now, working in the forges he described so lovingly to Tony during their time together. He had made a promise to the old bastard he’d come and visit after all is said and done, and he hopes he can still fulfill that one day, maybe in his own future.

“So what happens next?” Tony asks, head dipping down to rest against Loki’s shoulder. He should probably be disturbed by how natural it feels to do so. “After you’ve got your magic back… what do we do then?”

Loki lets out a heavy sigh. “That depends entirely on what the elves require in return, but… Best-case scenario, I summon the Tesseract, take you back to Earth, perform the ritual to move through time, drop you off in your proper timeline, and then disappear into the aether and you’ll hopefully never hear or see from me again.”

He tries not to show how much the last part bothers him. Tony lifts his head just enough to look at the god. “And worst-case scenario?”

Loki tilts his head to look down at him, one of his gentler smiles gracing his features. “We both die.”

Tony sighs and lays down in the ship, closing his eyes. “Let’s not do that one.”

“Agreed,” Loki says with a soft laugh.

It’s a while longer before he feels Loki lay down next to him, knocking their bodies together slightly as he gets settled in the tight space. Not quite on the edge of sleep yet, he blinks his eyes open, surprised to see Loki facing him. He goes cross-eyed for a second, moving his head back so they’re not so nose-to-nose. He stares into those green eyes that he once thought were so soulless, and they stare right back.

“What?” Tony asks softly.

Loki’s eyes narrow slightly, not in suspicion, but rather in frustration. “I don’t know,” he professes, looking even more frustrated by the words that leave his mouth, as if it’s the first time he’s ever uttered the phrase and meant it. “I can’t believe I’m saying this— but I suppose if you die tomorrow it’s not like you’ll tell anyone...”

“Gee, thanks, Loki.”

Loki exhales through his nose. “What I mean is… I’m afraid I might actually  _ miss _ your company, Anthony.”

Tony searches his face for a moment before smiling. “... _ Liar _ .”

There’s a flicker of surprise at the accusation before he smirks back. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“I don’t know yet, I haven’t figured out your tell.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a  _ tell _ .”

“ _ Everyone _ has a tell.”

Loki shakes his head with a soft smile. “Maybe you can’t find it because I’m not lying.”

“Or because you’re an expert and I just need a little more time to figure yours out.”

“You know what? You’re right, it was a lie. I forgot how annoying you were, so thank you for reminding me,” Loki drawls with an eye roll. “I retract my statement. I’m not going to miss you at all.”

“That’s more like it,” Tony smiles and rolls onto his other side, settling himself back against Loki’s chest. Silence falls between them for a while, but it’s the kind where Tony can tell neither of them have fallen asleep just yet. “I might miss you too,” he confesses, barely above a whisper.

Loki simply responds by wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

* * *

Despite Loki’s wishes, he doesn’t sleep very solidly that night, far from well-rested when he’s finally nudged awake by the other man, accompanied by a whispered. “ _ It’s time. _ ”

Dusk arrives gradual and unassuming, the deep crimson sky seeping into a purplish-blue the closer to the edge of the horizon it gets. It seems to be the fastest transition of time yet, the outline of the largest moon appearing overhead as they get everything packed up. Tony runs a quick diagnostics on his suit to make sure he’s battle-ready should it come to that.

They fly close to the ground as Tony descends down the side of the mountain, skimming over the reflective water that shimmers when disturbed, leaving a small wake of quicksilver behind them. He sets Loki back on his feet when they make it to the edge of the concentrated cluster of trees. He can’t tell if he’s just being paranoid, but it seems like the temperature drops at least thirty degrees when they fully touch down.

“Stay far enough back that you can see and hear, but stay out of view,” Loki reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what to do,” he replies tersely. “I can stick to a plan.”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “I don’t need to be an Avenger to know you tend to  _ improvise _ .”

“Yeah, well sometimes a little improv is necessary.”

“Isn’t  _ improv _ how you ended up stuck with me in the first place?” Loki asks with a smirk.

“Just  _ go _ ,” Tony sighs. “And try not to die.”

“Same to you,” Loki nods before he flies back off through the trees.

He stops at a safe distance away, finding a tree trunk large enough to hide behind. He enables the reconnaissance mode of the suit, peering enough around the edge of the bark so that he can see Loki’s heat signature. It’s far lower than a normal human’s, but his systems might just be thrown off by some kind of Asgardian differences in the biological makeup.

It’s eerily quiet as they wait, Loki slowly pacing around the center of the island. Minutes pass, turning into an hour, turning into two. The sky is starting to lose more and more light, a few insistent stars beginning to twinkle overhead.

He’s just about to give up hope altogether when a sudden fog begins to appear, seeping up out of the ground, making anything from the thigh down almost near impossible to see. The temperature drops drastically, Tony having to turn up the internal heat on the suit once his teeth start chattering. He watches the thermometer on the HUD dip down lower and lower below freezing.

He looks back towards the clearing, Loki standing perfectly still now with his hands folded calmly behind his back. He’s standing up straight, shoulders squared and chin held high as he waits. Tony watches as the fog seems to grow and shift into a humanoid shape, one after another appearing in the circle. There are six of them in total, the fog suddenly dissipating to reveal the dark elves. They’re exactly as Loki had described them, skin tone ranging from pale white to charcoal grey, white and black tribe markings painted over their elegant features, elongated ears sloping back from their faces.

One of them speaks in a language Tony can’t decipher but sort of reminds him of Parseltongue from Harry Potter, made up of hissing consonants and grating vowel sounds. He recognizes Loki’s voice when he responds in the same language, the two of them exchanging a few sentences back and forth before Loki speaks up in English again.

“You’ll have to excuse my Elven is not as refined as it once was. I would prefer to discuss in Allspeak, if that’s alright with you.”

“Ah, there is no need to pretend the request comes from anything other than wanting the ally you have waiting in the wings to understand our negotiation here.”

Tony feels his blood run cold. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Loki replies smoothly.

“Feigned ignorance does not suit you, Loki,” one of the other figures chastises in a rasping tone.

Loki sighs as if he can’t be bothered, tilting his head to the side. “We should just skip the pleasantries and get right to what we both came here to do. The magic hour doesn’t last forever.”

He and one of the elves step forward, meeting in the center. Two of the figures push in as well, while the other three spread out around the edge of the circle. Tony can’t be certain, but he swears one looks in his direction for a beat too long to just be coincidence, before turning away once more.

“We will remove the collar… In exchange for the Space Stone in your possession.”

Loki holds his arms out, looking around and patting himself down for a moment. “Ah, you know what, I think I left it in my other cloak. Pity.”

“We know you have the stone!” One of them shouts, storming towards Loki. The god remains unflinching as the leader of the pack holds an arm out, stopping their comrade. “He’s a  _ liar _ !”

“Yes, what else is new?” Loki drawls. 

_ Okay, now you’re just asking for it. _

“We’ve given you our demands,” the head elf says simply, clasping his hands together in front of him. “We require the Infinity Stone. Only then will we remove the collar.”

Loki is silent for a few moments. “Well this is quite the conundrum, then. I cannot call the Stone to me until my magic is restored. You will have to remove the collar first.”

The elves exchange glances before another one speaks up. “We know your tricks, Odin’s son. You  _ can _ and you  _ will _ call the Stone forth, or else we will leave you bound with the Vanir seal.”

“You have nothing to bargain with,” says the leader. “We’re aware of your desperation to rid yourself of the collar. We’re also aware that you are being hunted by your fellow Asgardians as well as their charges from the other realms. The Space Stone holds a standard value that we would benefit from possessing, but we certainly don't  _ need _ it. Not as much as you need the restraint removed. You are  _ nothing _ without your magic and illusions to hide behind.”

_ Uh, oh. Bad move, Legolas. _

He doesn’t need to see the smile on Loki’s face to know it’s there. “You’re absolutely correct, Liev’lodere. I have no options left. However, you can understand my unwillingness to give up an artifact so powerful without the assurance that you will in fact, remove this collar. I understand it’s quite the lengthy process with many disenchantments needing to be made, so why don’t you get your mages to start the process, and once it is almost finished, I will summon the Stone, and we will complete the trade simultaneously. Does that seem fair?”

Liev’lodere trades glances with their two cronies before nodding and snapping his fingers. Both of them step forward and begin to examine the collar, whispering things in that unknown language as they move their hands over it, small sparks of light leaving their fingertips and settling around Loki’s neck.

The process takes several minutes, Tony growing more antsy as he watches the three elves continue to stalk around the edge of the woods.

Liev’lodere commands the elves what Tony assumes to be  _ Stop  _ in their language, both of them stepping away from Loki. “They’ve done as you requested. There is just one enchantment left that needs to be removed.” They hold a hand out. “Now, the Stone, if you would.”

Loki kneels, slipping a hand under his cloak and fishing around for a moment. He winces before presenting the Tesseract, hand trembling as he holds it out to the elves. Tony leans forward on instinct. Is this some sort of signal for Tony to swoop in? Loki would never willingly give up the Tesseract, even if it meant his freedom from the collar.

Unless… All of this had just been a ploy to get his magic back. That’s what he desired more than anything else, after all. Once his wings were no longer clipped, he’d be able to do whatever he wanted. Sure, with his abilities back he can still return Tony to the correct timeline, but will he be able to get him back to Earth? Without the Tesseract, they’re both bound to whichever plane they were currently on, and Tony’s only feasible way back would be to somehow make it to Asgard and use the bifrost… but in his current timeline, there is no Asgard. Feasibly, there’s nothing keeping Loki tied to him once he’s been restored to his full power.

_ He wouldn’t do that to you, _ a small, wavering voice assures him in the back of his head.

_ Wouldn’t he?  _ Insidiously asks another.  _ You don’t really know him, only what he chooses to show you. _

The dark elf snatches the cube out of Loki’s hand, holding it up triumphantly. Loki raises his head. “Alright, I’ve given you the stone. Free me from this collar.”

The elf jerks their head towards Loki, the other two immediately returning to the ritual. They don’t tear his gaze away from the cube, turning it over in their hands.

“Be careful with it, it’s not a toy,” Loki warns patronizingly.

Liev’lodere whirls on him, raising a hand and slapping him across the face. Tony winces, watching Loki fall to the side before he gets back to his knees, flipping his hair out of his face without a word. “I know how to handle this much power. Not all of us misuse it in the way you have. Attempting to conquer  _ Midgard _ … you really are a fool, False Prince.” They raise the Tesseract up in the air, grinning widely. “We will be banished to the mist no longer, brothers and sisters! We will return to our rightful place here on Svartalfheim, and after we’ve subjugated the dwarves, next we will set our sights on Alfheim!” The group of elves cheer, raising their spears in the air. “Now… witness the power of an Infinity Stone!”

They thrust the cube into the air once more… and nothing happens. Seconds pass, the elves working on Loki’s collar pause in their motions, all eyes on Liev’lodere. They examine the cube once more, squeezing it between both hands. They give it a shake and hold it up with both hands, still resulting in nothing.

“Performance issues can be very common,” Loki says with a knowing grin. “One out of five…”

Tony doesn’t have time to let himself enjoy their little inside joke, watching as Liev’lodere storms over to Loki, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “If this is one of your tricks…”

“It’s no fault of mine that you don’t know how to wield the Stone. If you have these lovely elves remove this collar for me, I’d be happy to show you how to properly—”

_ SMASH _

Liev’lodere throws the cube onto the ground, Tony watching as it shatters into a small explosion of icy blue particles. With a quick wave of their hand, they banish the mist from the immediate area, revealing nothing but a small puff of blue smoke where the cube had been smashed into the ground, no stone left behind.

“Well,” Loki sighs heavily. “That’s a shame.”

In a flash of movement, Loki leaps to his feet, drawing a dagger forth from his belt and slashing the neck of the nearest elf to him. Blood pours out of their throat in an arc as they fall to the ground, body disappearing beneath the blanket of fog. The other one leaps back at a safe distance, narrowly dodging out of the way of a second dagger thrown directly at their chest.

Liev’lodere pulls their own scimitar, slashing out towards Loki who dodges and counters with a swipe of his own knife. Tony gets to his feet, hesitating behind the trunk for a moment. Loki had warned him not to come out unless absolutely necessary, and he looks like he’s handling himself well enough.

At least until Liev’lodere lands a blow, their blade slicing along Loki’s arm, forcing him to drop his knife, followed by a diagonal swipe of the blade across his chest. Loki cries out, clutching his arm as another elf runs at him from the shadows of the trees, slicing along the back of one calf to bring him down to one knee. Liev’lodere grabs him by the hair, forcing Loki to look up at them. “We’ll spare your life for now, Trickster. You still hold  _ some _ value, and I’m sure Odin won’t mind if we return you with a few chunks carved out of you.” They hold the tip of his blade up to Loki’s chin, turning his face towards the tree line where Tony is hiding. “But first… I’m going to make you watch as we cut your plaything to bits.”

Tony bursts from the trees in that instant, his suit of armor barreling forward at Mach 11.8 and colliding right into the dark elf, sending them flying back into the trees. The body collides with the trunk with a sickening snap, falling to the ground. The other elves are too stunned to react for a moment, which is all the time Tony needs.

He scoops Loki into his arms and rockets into the sky, immediately aiming them back towards where their ship is stowed.

“You couldn’t have come in a little sooner?!” Loki growls between labored breaths, both his hands pressed over the gash across his torso, black leathers sliced open and exposing bloodied skin.

“You told me to let you handle—!” Tony isn’t able to finish his argument when something pierces him from behind, the armor moving to thicken the panels over his back just in time to catch the projectile before it can break through to his skin. It sends him off course, Tony gripping tightly onto Loki as he tailspins for a moment, losing altitude. He twists to see one of the spears had been thrown with excellent marksmanship, and it probably would’ve made Tony into a kebab had it not been for the intuitiveness of the armor. Suddenly, there’s a pulse of energy that comes from the spear, his entire body spasming as an electric current is sent through the suit, his thrusters spluttering and limbs locking up completely.

The HUD goes dark, something hits them from another angle, and Loki’s body falls from his limp arms. White flashes in his vision as the current continues to run rampant through his body, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he feels the weightlessness of falling. There’s a strange taste of something almost coconuty in the back of his throat, and he’s instantly reminded of when he first placed his newly synthesized element into his body for the first time. The pain grows so exponentially he’s numbed from it for a split second before he’s thrust back into consciousness, his systems coming back online about halfway to the ground.

His vision is still doubling as he attempts to reorient himself, still tumbling end over end through the air for a moment before the nanobots help him get his equilibrium back. Once righted, he rips the spear out of his back and searches the sky frantically, just barely catching the sight of Loki’s dark form hurtling down and disappearing under the surface of the lake with a huge splash. Tony guns for him at full speed, swallowing down the bile in his throat. He’s thrown up inside the helmet before. Not fun.

He catches the alert on the HUD this time for another incoming projectile, this one in the form of a swirling blast of green energy rather than a spear. Tony barrel rolls to the side to dodge it, keeping his eye on the disturbed ripple where Loki had crashed into the water, a small pool of cloudy red spreading along the surface.

The suit slices through the surface of the lake, barely hindered by the extra resistance as he plunges after Loki’s form disappearing into the darkness of the water. He grabs onto Loki and does a hairpin turn, shooting back towards the surface like a torpedo out of hell.

He cradles Loki close to his chest as they breach, staying close to the ground to hopefully be more hidden by the thin layer of fog still stretching out from the island. He rolls so his back is facing the earth, no time to fully break as he skitters along the ground, doing his best to protect Loki as he slides to a stop against the base of the mountain.

With no time to catch his breath, Tony stumbles to his feet, doing his best not to jostle the soaked god in his arms. He drags himself over to a nearby cluster of boulders large enough to hide them from view, carefully laying him down against the rocks. He banishes the helmet from his face, holding Loki’s face in his hands. His eyes are closed, slightly parted lips stained red with blood. He gently pats his cheeks, giving him a slight shake in an attempt to wake him. “Loki?” He whispers, quickly glancing over his shoulder for any incoming dark elves. “Loki, hey, wake up. Come on, man, I need you to stay with me.”

The god splutters suddenly, coughing up a mix of blood and lake water as his body jerks against the boulders, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.

“Easy, easy,” Tony cautions, now noticing the new addition of a knife sticking out from beneath his ribs. It must’ve been another expert throw when they had been separated in the air. “Jesus Christ,” he breaths, hands hovering nervously over the blade. Dark crimson is already seeping through the dark material of his shirt, now more concentrated around where the blade is sunken in to the hilt. “Okay, Loki, I just need you to hold still and trust me,” he says before gripping the handle of the dagger.

Loki’s hand immediately seizes him by the wrist. “Are you—” Another bloody cough. “ _ —Insane _ ?! You don’t remove the blade from a stab wound this severe!”

“Yeah, I  _ know _ !” Tony argues, doing his best to keep his voice down. “I can close it up, at least temporarily. I just need you to  _ hold still _ .”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to argue further as Tony uses his free hand to clasp it over his mouth before he pulls the blade free. He hears the muffled cry of outrage and pain beneath his gauntlet, quickly pushing his sliced clothing out of the way to expose his chest. He notices a dark blue coloration to the skin around where Loki has been cut, worrying him that there might be some kind of poison on the elves’ blades. It will have to be something they deal with later.

He quickly seals up the wounds with the suture spray from the tips of his fingers, concentrating it more around the deepest stab wound from the dagger. He tends to the gash on Loki’s arm as well, having to ignore the cut on his leg for now for convenience sake, just hoping it’s shallow. “That should hold for a while until we can get you cleaned up for a more permanent fix.” 

He brings the HUD back up long enough to peer around the rocks, searching for any sign of their pursuers. He can see the heat signature of four of them through the thick fog, swimming out from the island. They seem to be spreading in opposite directions, none of them coming directly towards them just yet. It’s only a matter of time until they reach the shore and circle around to find them.

There’s suddenly another pulse in the suit, Tony barely holding back the strangled cry of anguish as he feels electricity course through his body once more. Fighting against his locked up armor, he slams his hand against the reactor, the nanomachines quickly retreating to their hub that Tony quickly rips from his chest, the metal hot and burning his hand as he drops it to the ground next to them.

Taking a few steady breaths as he slowly regains feeling in his fingers and toes, he crouches down in front of Loki again. “Alright, suit’s out of commission for the moment. Time for that last resort,” he holds a hand out. “The Tesseract, Loki. The  _ real _ one— smart play, by the way.”

“Yes, it’s a shame the moron caught on. A few m-more seconds and I would’ve been rid of this damned collar,” Loki grunts, holding his hands over the stab wound, some blood still trickling down from beneath the organic bandage. “I c-cannot give you the Stone. Not while I’m this susceptible.”

“Goddammit, Loki, we don’t have time for this!” Tony criticizes, sparing another glance over his shoulder. “After everything we’ve been through, you  _ still _ don't trust me?!”

“It’s not  _ you _ I’m worried about!” Loki seethes at him. “It’s the rest of them.”

“I wouldn't let anyone do anything to you, not even the Avengers!” Tony’s shocked to hear the desperate crack in his voice when he says it, realizing that he really does mean his words.

Something changes in Loki’s expression then. The pain from his wounds is still there, but there’s something intense in his gaze now as he locks eyes with Tony. “Do you promise me?”

“ _ What _ ? Yes, of course, I  _ promise— _ Just hand over the Tesseract!”

Loki suddenly grips him by the front of his shirt, using the leverage to pull himself into a sitting position. “I… need you… to  _ promise _ me,” he grinds out, a hiss of pain escaping him as he uses his other hand to clutch his abdomen. “Swear it, Tony. I need you to swear you’ll protect me.”

“Loki, we don't have time for—”

“Swear it!”

“Yes, okay, I swear! Loki, we have to go—”

“Pull your sleeve back,” Loki demands, Tony simply following the order rather than waste more time arguing. Loki lifts his other bloodstained hand, wrapping his long fingers around his forearm. His fingers dig sharply into the skin, Tony unable to bite back the short outcry of pain from the strength he possesses. “Grasp my arm and repeat after me.”

“What are you—”

“Just do it!” Loki orders, jerking his arm. Tony swallows and looks around the rocks again for any sign of their pursuers. He sighs and pushes Loki’s sleeve up to his elbow, mirroring his grasp. “Now, repeat what I say exactly. I, Anthony Edward Stark…”

Tony doesn’t bother to ask how the hell Loki knows his middle name. “I, Anthony Edward Stark…”

“Promise you, Loki, son of… Son of Laufey.”

“Promise you, Loki, son of Laufey.”

“That I will protect you… from any immediate threat your well-being… any person or force that may wish you harm… or make you vulnerable in any way…”

“Loki, why—”

“ _ Just say it, Tony! _ ” Loki scream-whispers at him, blood dripping from his teeth.

Tony sighs in frustration. “That I will protect you from any immediate threat to your well-being, any person or force that may wish you harm, or make you vulnerable in any way!” He repeats. He can hear the shouts of the dark elves, the sound traveling closer. “Now can we please just—”

He’s unable to finish his thought, not because of a surprise attack from behind, but one that comes from the front. Loki drags him forward by the collar, their lips crashing together before Tony can truly register what’s happening. The action is harsh and insistent, a physical plea for something beyond intimacy. Reasons for doing so aside, Tony can’t do anything other than fucking  _ melt _ .

He raises his free hand, capturing Loki by the back of the head. He feels the other man’s lips part against his own, naturally deepening the kiss. He can taste the irony tang of blood as Loki’s tongue slides against his own. A soft moan slips between them, but Tony can’t tell who it comes from.

Suddenly, there’s a burning sensation on his arm where Loki is holding him, forcing Tony to break the kiss as he reels back. He wrenches his arm free, still feeling a white hot pain itching beneath the skin. He looks down at his arm to see a perfect ring of discolored skin, maybe two fingers wide, wrapped around the spot Loki had been holding him at. It’s a few notches paler than his own, more tan skin tone, Tony rubbing his free hand over it as the pain fades. The mark doesn’t go anywhere. “What did you—”

“No… Time…” Loki grunts, rolling his own sleeve back down. He lifts one trembling hand, twitching his fingers as blue sparks dance across his palm. A guttural cry rips its way from his throat as the glowing cube appears in his hand, only to fall from it seconds later as he slumps to the side.

“Loki?!” Tony grabs him by the shoulders and sits him back up against the rock. The sounds are getting closer. There’s sweat beading along Loki’s brow, his pale skin shining with a sickly pallor as his eyes glaze over slightly. “Hey, Loki, come on, stay with me,” he begs, giving the man a shake. He scoops up the Tesseract in his hand, holding onto it tightly as he grabs Loki’s wrist, forcing him to keep a hand on the cube as well. “Loki, we don’t have much time, I need you to stay with me, okay? We’ve gotta go but I need your help to use this thing. We’ll get you to Earth and I’ll patch you up good as new, okay?” He pushes the wet hair back from Loki’s face, giving his face another shake. “ _ Come on, Loki! _ I can’t do this without you.”

The god seems to snap back into reality, blinking his eyes and letting out a shaky moan as he attempts to sit himself up again.

“Don’t strain yourself. Stay put,” Tony urges. He chances another peek around their boulder, now able to see the shapes of the dark elves in the fog, still searching for them but getting closer. He scoops the arc reactor up off the ground and slips it into his pocket. “Help me use this thing, we’re out of time _and_ options ,” he pleads, clasping the god’s hand between his own.

Loki’s grip tightens around the cube on his own volition. “We can… share the load… But I need you to be the one to make…” He struggles around a wet cough, more blood escaping from his lips. “Make the jump. Th-Think of h-home. Your  _ home _ . What it looks like, smells like,  _ feels _ like when you’re there… Picture it clearly in your mind…” Loki gets a starry look in his eyes, his other hand shaking as it moves to rest on top of Tony’s. “Go home.”

Tony closes his eyes and lets the blackness swallow him whole, this time without an ounce of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to make these chapters around the same length, but my writing tends to really get away from me ^^; Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Very excited to share the next one... whenever that is.


	5. An Inconvenient Detour

It smells like pine trees.

It’s the first sense to come back to him after the jump. The scent is almost overbearing until he’s able to counterbalance it with the overwhelming ache of feeling like he’s just been run over by a train.

He’s laying on his stomach, blades of grass tickling his cheek with the light breeze that wafts by, carrying the scent of the conifers around them. He curls his fingers, digging them into the soft, warm earth below to anchor him while waiting for his vision to return.

Out of the blackness fades in the expanse of forest. It’s vastly different from the one they just escaped from, the surrounding barks a mix of deep russets and bleached whites with branches sloping downward and laden with long pine needles. Tony lifts his head and looks over to see Loki splayed out on the ground next to him, the Tesseract on the ground between their hands.

He’s still deafened as he struggles to his hands and knees, no sound reaching his ears as he manages to crawl over to Loki and shake him by the shoulder. He rolls the god onto his back, lifting his shirt to see that there’s still some blood seeping out from the suture spray. His throat feels raspy as he calls Loki’s name, unable to hear even his own voice as he attempts to wake him. He presses his fingers against his throat, head hanging in relief when he feels a pulse there.

There’s a faint ringing in Tony’s ears as he gets to his feet, immediately hit by a wave of nausea that sends the ground beneath him swirling up to meet him. He stumbles sideways, colliding gracelessly into the nearest tree, barely able to get his arms around the trunk to steady himself as the world continues to tilt. The branches tremble above him from the impact, a small sprinkling of needles falling atop his head and shoulders. He brushes some of them out of his hair, noticing an odd sheen to them. As he rolls them in his palm, there’s no normal waxy film over the pine needles that he expects to see from the trees upstate, but instead there’s an almost rainbow-like luster shining as he moves them back in forth in the light. He must be hallucinating.

When the world eventually stops spinning, and his hearing begins to return, Tony attempts to take in their surroundings again. All he can see is the unfamiliar forest, and the next thing he notices is that it’s eerily quiet aside from the sound of his own labored breaths. There’s no sound of birds chirping above or critters running along the forest floor. The more he takes in the size and variation of the trees around them, the more he begins to doubt where they’ve ended up.

He had pictured it so clearly in his mind. His home by the lake, the acres of private land just for him, Pepper, and Morgan to live on and do with what they pleased. Their gardens filled with all of Pepper’s plants and herbs, his garage where Morgan loved to sneak into, even Gerald’s stable— all of it had been in the image he so desperately thought of. The smell of Pepper’s citrus shampoo after a shower, the softness of Morgan’s down blanket he tucked her under every night, the rhythmic chirping of the crickets sitting outside that filtered in through the open window in Tony’s study— He’d done exactly what Loki asked him to and thought of nothing but his home.

_ It’s not an exact science _, Tony remembers being told. Maybe they’re not far off, then. While their surroundings aren’t totally familiar, Tony knows that his little farm hasn’t even been built yet. It’s still 2012, so the land he currently owns may have not even been cleared out at this time. He just has to find his way to the edge of Lake George, and then he’ll know he succeeded.

He moves through the forest as quickly as he can, keeping an eye and ear out for anything familiar. He doesn’t want to stray too far from Loki, but he has to get rid of this unnerving feeling of something not being quite right here. All of his muscles burn with the exertion, a dull, throbbing pain making itself known at the base of his skull, but he has to push onward. Despite having to stop every few feet to catch his breath, he sees a clearing up ahead, able to see a blue sky and beams of light breaking through the branches above. He continues up the gradual incline of the hill, eventually stumbling out into the open.

Finally, he’s met with an array of discernible landmarks, but none of them are recognizable to him.

His heart drops to his feet as he takes in the sight in front of him. The city is grand and filled with magnificent, pointed architecture, there’s a bridge stretching over sparkling water visible in the distance, but it is _ not _ New York.

Tony practically sprints back to Loki, stopping only once to clutch a hanging tree branch and vomit nothing but bile onto the ground. He returns, throat burning with acid, to find him still out cold on the ground. “Loki?” He pats the god on the cheek a few times, growing more insistent when he shows no sign of waking. “Come on, don’t make me slap you across the face. I need you to wake up!”

Whether it’s the threat itself or coincidental timing, Loki finally comes back to consciousness, the man slowly blinking awake with a dazed look on his face. “What…” He begins to sit up but then winces, hand clutching at his sliced up middle.

“We have a problem,” Tony says, moving to help Loki into a sitting position. “I’m 99.9% sure we’re in Asgard.”

That seems to do the trick in waking him up fully. Some of the sharpness comes back to his foggy gaze as he takes in their surroundings, head whipping back and forth. “No,” he practically whispers, grabbing Tony by the shoulders to leverage himself to his feet. “No, no, no, no,” he repeats, immediately collapsing onto one knee.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. It took me a while to get my bearings too, and I’m not the one sporting several stab wounds right now,” Tony cautions him, watching as more blood drips onto the ground. He places a hand on Loki’s back, the other fishing the reactor out of his pocket. There’s still a strange pulse to it, the light from the center flickering slightly. He’ll have to run a diagnostic on it later to clear out whatever kind of magic nonsense it was spiked with from that spear, but for now that means he’s got nothing to patch Loki up with. The god trembles beneath his touch, slowly slumping back onto the ground. “Hey— Easy there, pal, stay with me. Neither of us are in any condition to make another jump, so what are our options here?”

There’s sweat beading along Loki’s brow as he lifts his head. “We… cannot risk… being seen… How far are we... from the city?”

“Not far, I could see it just over the hill that way,” Tony nods towards where he saw the city. He scoops the Tesseract off the ground and tucks it into one of the deep pockets of Loki’s cloak. “Looks like the first buildings I could see were maybe a quarter mile away. Think you can make it that far?”

Clearly trying not to show the immense pain he’s experiencing on his face, Loki nods again and grips onto Tony’s shoulders, letting the shorter man hoist him up to his feet. “I’ve got… places we… can hide… Once I’m recovered… we… can…” His weight is suddenly bearing down on him as he collapses once more, Tony barely able to keep him upright.

“Okay, okay,” Tony grunts, struggling to get his arms under Loki’s and keep him standing. “You can sleep in a minute, I need you to tell me where to go.” He wraps an arm around Loki’s waist, pulling one of the god’s arms up around his shoulders. “You gotta help me out here, Loki.”

There’s a grunt of acknowledgement from the dead weight next to him. Tony drags him another twenty feet or so before the god gets his legs back, slowly limping forward alongside of Tony. Every step seems to pain Loki, the muscles in his face clenched tight as he powers onward. Tony mutters a few encouragements to him as they stumble along together, stopping only after Loki threatens to rip his tongue out of his skull. Good to know that even halfway through death’s threshold, he still has the energy to threaten mutilation.

The inclines and declines of the ground prove difficult, Tony almost losing his grip on Loki more than once. It’s a slow and arduous journey, especially once they make it to the edge of the city. He rearranges Loki’s hood to make sure the god’s face is completely shrouded as they start to approach the back alleyways of what seems to be a shopping area, many shouting voices overlapping each other as they approach. Loki whispers directions into his ear, guiding him through the back channels of the Eastern District to reach his little hideaway.

The voices start to taper off as Tony winds deeper and lower into the belly of the city, navigating himself and Loki down the cobblestone stairs as the buildings begin to decline in their extravagance. They slip through the long shadows cast along the ground, eventually coming to the back of a building that’s probably considered “run-down” for Asgard’s standards.

“This is it,” Loki pants when they reach a wooden door stained with an old coat of red paint that’s peeling away. “Leave me here. Go around to the front and ask for Kalda... You may give her my name and tell her I’m here, but do not let anyone overhear you, understand?” Loki grips the front of his shirt with as much strength as a newborn kitten. “Don’t dawdle with any distractions,” he adds in a low voice.

“Got it, you won’t even know I’m gone,” Tony slowly lowers Loki to lean against the back stoop, wondering what he means by distractions.

Tony wraps the travelling cloak they got from Andvari’s ship a little tighter around him, hoping he doesn’t stand out too much in his simple Svartalfar clothing. As he slips around to the front of the building and sees a few of the Asgardians milling around, he realizes that may not be a problem. As he approaches, any men or women standing around turn away from him, usually taking their scantily clad companion by the arm and leading them further away. He sees a flash of much fancier clothing disguised beneath cloaks similar to his own, none of the figures paying him any mind. He shakes his head and walks up the steps, knocking a few times on the door.

A panel on the door slides open at about eye height, a pair of heavily made-up eyes peeking through the grate in the door. “Are you lost?” a husky voice asks.

“Uh,” Tony glances around, wondering if there’s some passcode that Loki conveniently forgot to give him. He leans forward for discretion, keeping his voice low. “I’m looking for… Kalda?”

The eyes narrow suspiciously, give Tony a once over, and then the slat closes with a resounding snap.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers under his breath, hesitating on the stoop for a moment as he quickly thinks of a new plan. He raises his hand to knock again when he hears a few more clicks, and then the door swings open.

The woman standing behind it is dressed far from understated, vibrant colored silks laden with gold embroidery wrapping around her form. She’s at least half a foot taller than Tony, dark tresses piled up on top of her head only adding to her imposing height. Tony sees a few more similarly dressed women in the hallway behind her, casual conversation seeming to stop as they spot him in the doorway. “Kalda?” the statuesque woman in front of him asks, raising an eyebrow. She reaches out and wraps her hand in the front of Tony’s cloak, pulling him forward by a step. “What’s a handsome man like you looking to do with the _ stum _girl?”

Tony has no idea what that means, but it sounds derogatory. “Is she here?” Tony asks to avoid a real answer. His adam’s apple bobs as the woman runs a long-nailed finger up his throat, hand travelling to brush her fingers through his hair. He’s probably overdue for a haircut at this point, shifting his head away when she starts to grip the longer tufts behind his ears.

The woman sighs, dropping her hand away when he shows no interest. “Magdi? Will you fetch Kalda?”

One of the other women in the hallway steps forward, peering around to get a good look at Tony. “Is he sure about that? I’d be happy to take him for myself,” she says with a sultry smile, batting long eyelashes at him.

The door woman looks back to Tony with a raised eyebrow. _ Well? _

He clears his throat and wraps the cloak a little tighter around him as Magdi reaches out to play with the drawstrings dangling from his head. “No, thank you. I just need to speak with Kalda for a moment.”

Door Woman snorts. “Good luck with _ that _. Magdi, go.”

“Yes, Madame,” the girl reluctantly nods with a pout and disappears into the dark, candle-lit hallway.

Madame Door Woman steps aside and allows Tony inside, closing and locking the door behind him. She leads him into the foyer and apparently gives up on any further seduction attempts, snapping her fingers at the lingering girls who are staring at Tony and giggling behind their hands. They mirror a similar pout and walk past him to disappear around a corner, wafting perfume as they go.

A few more minutes pass of Tony awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot, doing his best not to pass out on the very ornate carpet beneath his feet. Suddenly Magdi is back with a much younger looking woman— _ girl _is the more appropriate term— in tow. She looks no older than fifteen, dressed more modestly than her compatriots, eyes glued to the floor as Magdi pulls her along. Her skin is caramel-colored, pale blonde hair a sharp contrast where it hangs down around her face in soft waves.

“If he gets tired of you, send him to my chambers,” Magdi whispers into Kalda’s ear, purposefully loud enough so that Tony can hear. She flashes him a wink and disappears through a curtain hanging in a doorway.

Kalda eventually looks up at him, deep brown eyes large and scared. It reminds him of Morgan, in a weird way. He opens his mouth to give her the message, but then remembers Loki’s warning. He glances around, still able to hear faint sounds of fake female laughter and the jingling of jewelry through the curtained off rooms behind them. “Is there somewhere private I can talk to you?” he whispers.

The girl nods shakily and offers a hand. He takes it and lets her lead him down a hallway. There doesn’t seem to be any actual _ doors _in the place, every door frame they pass by covered by drapery that ranges from gauzy and translucent to thick curtains that actually offer some privacy. It doesn’t take an accidental glance into the more open rooms and the sounds of pleasure filtering out from all around them for Tony to know exactly where they are.

She leads him up a narrow stairwell until they reach another one of the heavily-curtained rooms. It’s lavishly decorated, a huge round bed in the center with plush seating across almost every possible surface. Tony takes a moment to walk around and survey the room. The windows are tightly sealed and completely covered by curtains, the room almost pitch black aside from a single candle lit by the doorway. He presses an ear against the wall, confirming that he can’t hear any travelling voices nearby.

“Okay,” he sighs in relief, turning back to the girl. “This is going to sound strange, but— Jesus christ, what are you—?!” Tony splutters when he’s met with Kalda half-naked in front of him, already on her knees. “No! Nope, no, no— I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Tony keeps his eyes on the ceiling as he takes Kalda by the shoulders and lifts her back to her feet, carefully pulling the girl’s open shirt back over her shoulders to cover her up. “I’m not— That isn’t what this— Oh my god, I’m old enough to be your _ father— _Maybe not, I know your Aesir age shit is weird—” He sighs, wiping a hand over his face. He meets her eyes again once she’s covered herself back up, looking mildly confused and alarmed by his outburst. “Sorry. I’m sorry. My name is Tony. I came here with…” He leans closer to her but keeps his arms braced on her shoulders to maintain a respectable distance. “I came here with Loki. He’s out back by the red door.”

Kalda’s eyes widen and she nods quickly, grasping him by the hand again and swiftly leading him out of the room and back down the stairs. She’s faster than she looks, Tony struggling to keep up as she leads him through a few cramped hallways, opening not one, but two hidden doors in the walls. Completely blind in the darkness, he holds onto the girl’s slender wrist and trusts her to guide him through.

They come to a stop, Kalda’s silhouette lit up for a moment by something glowing in the palm of her hand before the narrow passageway is suddenly filled with light. He raises a hand and squints against it, stepping out to see Kalda crouched beside where Loki has been waiting in the back alley.

“It took you long enough,” Loki grumbles. He raises a hand to the girl when she attempts to help him, bracing himself against the wall to get back on his feet. He looks between Kalda and Tony for a moment, lip curling in a snarl. “I thought I said not to get _ distracted _,” he nods towards Kalda’s half-fastened shirt before pushing past Tony and limping into the building.

“That’s not— I didn’t—” Tony stammers, not sure why he feels the need to defend himself. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“Of course it was,” Loki drawls as they continue along in the darkness.

Tony keeps his hands out, feeling along the stone walls as he follows behind Loki, Kalda bringing up the rear. “You could’ve _ warned _ me you brought us to a _ brothel _.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Loki asks. Even though Tony can’t see it, he can _ hear _ the shit-eating grin. Kalda giggles softly behind them. “You can fuck all the whores you want _ after _our safety is secured, Anthony.”

“I don’t want—” Tony huffs in frustration. “Nevermind. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

He bumps into Loki’s back when they come to a sudden stop again. Loki turns a door handle, an old door creaking open to reveal a tiny room that’s nothing like the ones he saw upstairs. There’s a single-sized bed in the corner, an old cabinet on the opposite wall above a water basin, and a few rickety wooden chairs around a table with a deck of cards laying on it. Everything is covered in a fine dust, candles flickering on the walls. The only other source of light comes from a small, rectangular window that appears to be at ground level up above them, the glass heavily frosted and mostly opaque.

Loki immediately collapses down onto the bed, finally letting the exhaustion show. Blood has began to soak through his clothing now, Tony wondering how much he’s able to lose before they’re in critical condition territory.

Tony turns to Kalda, “Do you have medical supplies? He’s in really bad shape.”

She nods, worriedly looking over at the collapsed god before she opens the creaky cabinet doors, digging around in a few boxes. He pulls up a chair next to the bed, opening Loki’s shirt fully to expose the worst of the wounds. There’s still a concerning blue tint to the edges of the opening, the stench of blood hitting him like a wave with the sutures having all but faded at this point. Kalda gasps softly behind him, her hands covering her mouth.

Tony turns to her. “I can patch him up with this, but I think he might need some kind of medicine. Do you guys even take medicine?” He asks.

Kalda looks uncertain, eyes sliding over to Loki. He blinks his eyes open to look at her, nodding as something non-verbal passes between them. “Go to the herbalists in the market. Ask for Vermillia Draught and Hermadeye. Quickly.”

The girl disappears without another word, leaving Tony to his devices. He looks down at Loki whose every breath is a laborious task, his eyes squeezed shut again. “I’m going to undress you now, so feel free to pass out again and spare me from your lewd comments.”

Loki's lips actually twitch into a smile, but he remains silent as Tony carefully removes his layers of clothing down to his underwear.

Wet rag in hand, Tony begins to clean all the old and fresh blood around the wounds. The shallower cuts on his leg and arm already look to be healing faster than they would on a normal human, so it’s at least comforting that Loki’s probably just as hearty as his brother in that department. Loki weakly assists him in pointing out the proper balms to use for the gashes, Tony carefully treating each wound before wrapping bandages around it. The injuries on his chest need a little more attention, Tony fishing out the tiny needle and suture thread.

“Try not to squirm too much,” Tony mutters before going to work.

Loki is a surprisingly obedient patient, but Tony chalks it up to being on the verge of consciousness for the entire process. He keeps any questions about the blueish skin to himself, figuring it probably has to do with the healing factor or possible poison affect.

“You’re good at this,” Loki mumbles softly. Tony glances up in surprise to see heavily-lidded eyes watching him. Loki’s breathing had grown so steady he just assumed the man had fallen asleep. “You have gentle hands.”

“Thanks, I think,” Tony scoffs, carefully continuing his stitch work. “I’ve had some practice doing this to myself when I didn’t have my pal Happy around to stitch me up. Got good at the whole gentle thing from patching up Morgan. Kid’s been collecting scraped knees and elbows since she learned how to walk,” he laughs. “And subsequently, run.”

Loki mirrors his smile, his eyes closed again. “Sounds like she takes after her father.”

“Sometimes to a fault,” He smiles softly, finishing the last stitch.

Loki reaches out and slips his hand into Tony’s, resting it on his hip. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he practically mumbles, head drifting to one side of the pillow.

Tony stares down at their intertwined hands and then back at Loki’s face. He looks so _ drained _, cheeks shallower than usual, dark circles under his eyes such a sharp contrast to the pallor of his skin. Tony considers pulling away, but he decides to settle back into the chair and leave his hand where it is.

He’s startled awake by a touch to his shoulder, narrowly catching himself from falling out of the chair. Kalda holds her hand up in surprise, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” Tony immediately apologizes, wiping a hand down his face. He somehow didn’t disturb Loki despite yanking his hand away, the god still sleeping soundly next to him.

Kalda holds out a bag, Tony peering inside to see one large and one small glass bottle with strange shimmering liquids inside. “Thanks,” he sets them both down on the bedside table and looks over Loki’s injuries, cleaning off any blood he may have missed earlier. He turns to ask if he should wake Loki for the medicine now or let him rest, but Kalda is already gone, her footfalls all but silent.

Tony pulls his chair back over to the table and takes out the housing unit and his glasses, scanning over the reactor to run the best diagnostics he can. There’s still an occasional pulse of energy, his readings still coming back a garbled mess when he attempts to make sense of whatever strange effect the dark elves' spear had left behind.

He actually hears Kalda before he sees her the next time she shows up, the sound of something rattling slightly approaching before the door opens. The willowy girl enters with a large platter in her hands, filled with a strange amalgamation of food. Tony immediately gets up to help her with the huge dish, setting it down on the table. She nods to him in appreciation, gesturing to the plate stacked high with fresh looking meat, fruits, and pastries.

His stomach growls loudly, earning a soft laugh from Kalda. “Oh, uh, thank you,” Tony smiles at her before sitting down to eat. He hasn’t realized how hungry he actually is until that moment, immediately taking one of the silverware sets and digging into the hunk of meat. Everything is so rich in flavor, Tony knowing that if he doesn’t slow down he’s going to just puke it all up later, his body still accustomed to the bland stews and rations he’d been eating for the past couple of months.

With half the plate somehow disappearing into his stomach, he pushes himself back from the table. Kalda is still standing in the room, simply watching him eat. He wipes at some of the sauce on his mouth with his sleeve. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Did you want some?”

She smiles and shakes her head politely.

Tony pushes the other chair out with his foot. “Sit down at least,” he offers with a smile. The girl hesitates before sitting in the chair, hands folded in her lap. “So how did you and Loki meet?”

Kalda presses her lips together, brow furrowing for a moment.

“She can’t answer that,” Loki suddenly speaks up from behind, startling both of them. “She’s mute.”

Tony looks at Loki, then back to Kalda who is staring at the floor again. Of course, how did he not realize that sooner? Loki grunts as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, Tony immediately jumping out of his chair to ease him back down. “Whoa there, cowboy, let’s take it easy. I don’t need you reopening those stitches.”

“What did you call me?” Loki mumbles under his breath, allowing Tony to push him back down.

“Kalda got what you asked for,” Tony gestures to the bottles. “I don’t really know the dosage for Asgardian potions, sorry.”

Loki has enough energy to roll his eyes. He immediately picks up the smaller bottle that holds about two shots-worth of liquid, uncorking and downing it in one swift motion. He makes a face as he sets the empty bottle down. “A healing supplement,” he explains, coughing into his hand. “Without my magic, the process comes much slower. This should speed it along.” He points to the larger bottle. “And that will help coagulate and clean my blood. I should need about one spoonful per day.”

When Tony turns to grab the silverware off the tray, Kalda is already standing next to him, holding out a tablespoon. Jesus, the girl is like a shadow. Tony helps give Loki the dosage, letting the man take the medicine himself. Even if they are closer, he’s not quite sure they’re in spoon-feeding territory just yet.

“One dose a day? About how long do you think you’ll need to heal before you’re ready to make the jump again?” Tony doesn’t feel quite up to it himself just yet, his entire body still aching with soreness from their first use of the stone.

Loki shrugs, wincing a bit at the movement. “Hopefully not long. You’ll find the time cycles on Asgard match up fairly well to Midgard, so it will be less disorienting to acclimate at the very least.” His eyes slide between the two of them. “I learned my lesson from the last time. I will not force you to stay here with me. If you do go out, stay far away from the main city. Thor does not stray far from it, and he certainly won’t be coming to the slums. As long as you stick to this district, you shouldn’t have any risk of being recognized. I still recommend prudence for any outings. Take Kalda with you, she’s very useful.”

Tony glances to the waifish girl who just responds with a confident nod. “While I appreciate it, I’m still feeling pretty wiped myself. I don’t mind taking a day or two to rest up here with you.”

Loki sighs, lifting a hand to lazily wave him off. “Fine, fine. Kalda can find a reserved room for you upstairs, the beds are _ very _ nice here. Feel free to indulge in whatever the women and men here have to offer you.”

“No, I mean, stay _ here _ . With _ you _,” Tony repeats.

Loki opens his eyes again before narrowing them in Tony’s direction. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

Tony rolls his eyes and gently nudges Loki’s hip. “Just scoot over, asshole.”

Loki smirks at him before he tilts his head to glance over to Kalda. “You’re dismissed. Tony will come find you if he needs anything.”

Kalda disappears, Tony muttering another thanks at her back as she goes, shutting the door firmly behind her. There’s not much room on the bed, the thing only a little larger than a twin-size, but they somehow make room. Tony rests his head on Loki’s good shoulder, careful to avoid leaning into his bandaged wounds. “So what’s the story behind her?”

He feels Loki exhale on the top of his head. “I found her when she was very young. I tend to wear a few different faces so I’m able to move freely throughout the city just as a commoner, not as the people’s Prince. She attempted to pickpocket me,” Loki huffs a fond laugh. “She was a runaway. Sold into slavery as a child when her parents decided they didn’t want a mute daughter.”

“That’s horrible,” Tony frowns. “How did she end up here?”

“I set her up with a servant job in the castle for some time, but she didn’t like it there. She prefers this. The slums. The shadows,” He shrugs. “I wasn’t going to stop her. The patrons of this place much prefer a plaything that can talk back to them, so they take little interest in her. There's no need for that face, Kalda has her own agency despite appearances. She much prefers to help around the house in other, more productive ways… and usually skims the pockets of rich men once their clothes are discarded,” he adds with a grin.

Tony thinks about how quickly his intentions had been misunderstood, now wondering if she had just suspected him to be another wallet for her to reap. “Just to clarify,” Tony pipes up. “I’m not going to be sleeping with Kalda or anyone else here.”

He feels the laughter rumble in Loki’s chest. “Any particular reason you wanted to clear that up with me?” He asks, sounding smug.

There’s a fleeting moment where Tony considers bringing up the kiss. When he thinks about it, he can still feel the rough crash of lips and teeth, the stark taste of blood on his tongue, and the indescribable feeling that cracked open from the center of his chest and radiated down to his toes.

“_ No _ ,” Tony growls, in answer to Loki’s question as well as his bothersome thoughts. “Now shut up and sleep.”   


* * *

By the next morning, Loki’s wounds are already looking much better. The less severe cuts on his leg and arm have almost completely closed, the flesh only slightly irritated and red around the scarred line. The excessive bleeding from his stab wound has stopped as well, and Tony is sure to make sure Loki gets his spoonful-a-day of the sulfur-smelling draught.

Loki acts differently over the next few days… _ Subdued _ is the best word Tony can apply to it. He sleeps and meditates more often than he speaks, words lacking their usual barbs. Tony himself is still feeling the repercussions of the toll that the Space Stone took on his body, the soreness slowly fading away as the days and nights pass by. He can’t imagine how Loki feels with the amount of blood he’s lost coupled with whatever internal damage the dark elves' blades dealt.

Tony asks about the weird mark on the middle of his forearm, that strip of pale skin that hasn’t gone away. He notices the same mark on Loki’s arm, but darker in contrast to his skin. He’s not sure if the god’s skin could be any paler, really. Loki brushes the question off as they’re falling asleep one night, explaining it to be a kind of after effect of them using the stone together, and that it will fade in another week or so.

He can tell Loki is lying, but decides not to push it for now.

With Loki less spirited than normal, Tony passes the time by repairing his nanobots and playing cards with Kalda. The girl is a fast learner with even faster hands, a worthy adversary when it comes to poker. She’s certainly better at bluffing, but he supposes the inability to run her mouth helps with that.

He takes her up on the offer to show him around the shops of the Eastern District, the tents and storefronts containing a wide variety of wares that differ greatly from what he saw in Svartalfheim. He’s not as efficient as slipping through the crowds as Kalda, but she seems to tolerate his Midgardian pace, wordlessly pointing out different kinds of herbs and trinkets she finds interesting. He lets her buy him a pastry from a smaller shop that reeks with an overbearing aroma of _ sweet _. Despite this, it’s far less sugary than he’s expecting, biting into the golden and crunchy dough ball to taste a burst of tart berry-flavor. They walk in their usual companionable silence back to the house, Tony following her lead through some of the secret nooks and crannies in the building, awkwardly making his way up the ladder with his half-eaten treat clasped between his teeth.

They sit on the rooftop together, watching sun sink down past the monumental silhouette of the palace in the distance. Tony finishes his pastry while Kalda still picks idly at the kebab she picked up from the market, plucking off every individual chunk of vegetable or meat before popping it into her mouth.

“Thanks,” he says, licking the leftover filling off his fingers. He feels like most of his conversations with Kalda are just him expressing his gratitude.

She nods, as she usually does.

He watches her thoughtfully chew each bite, legs swinging slightly where they dangle off the edge of the tiled roof. The soft golden light of the setting sun makes her look even younger than she already does.

“Have you always been like this?” Tony asks in what he hopes is a light tone.

She purses her lips for a moment and gives a slow nod before offering a half-smile paired with a tap to the side of her temple. _ As long as I can remember _.

He bites back the urge to tell her he’s _ sorry _, knowing how she’s probably heard that plenty, at least from anyone with a slightly sympathetic bone in their body. “It must have been hard. Loki told me a bit about your history together.”

One slim shoulder lifts and falls in a shrug.

“You seem like you’ve adapted well,” Tony continues, wondering if she finds his commentary tiresome. “Most people have nothing worthwhile to say about 90% of the time, so you’re already better than the rest of us.”

She smiles and giggles, her eyes sparkling momentarily at Tony for a moment as to say _ thank you _.

“Do you have any other method of communicating?” Tony inquires curiously.

Her hand slips into the pocket of her flowy pants, emerging with a small book in her grasp, a graphite pencil tucked between the pages. She opens it up and angles it towards him, flipping through a few pages of parchment. He catches glimpses of a few phrases written down, some in multiple languages. From what he grasps, it seems to be general responses or prompts she’s collected for everyday use. She flips to a blank page, pulling the book back to her chest to write something down before she hands it back to him.

_ I use this for those who have the patience. _

He smiles and hands it back to her. “So it doesn’t get much use then?”

He earns a light and tinkly laugh in response, Kalda nodding emphatically.

A sudden idea sparks in his mind. He slips on his tinted glasses, tapping the side of the stem twice. The display flickers to life as he pulls his now fully repaired housing unit out of his pocket, calling forth the nanobots to form a Bluetooth remote of sorts. Kalda looks inquisitive as his thumb moves over the hand-held device, eyes jumping around the HUD of the glasses. It’s a simple enough task to thumb through all the programs stored in the glasses’ system, finding what he’s looking for and enabling it, running an erase function on the rest of the complicated protocols in place. He then unlinks the flat little egg-shaped remote from the rest of the nanobots, making it self-sufficient and ensuring it won’t return to the housing unit when called.

Lang’s stupid time travel rules flicker in his brain for a moment, easily disregarded. Tony removes the sunglasses and hands them as well as the smooth touch-remote to Kalda who’s staring at him with a wide-eyed curiosity. “These glasses are programmed with an accessibility function I designed for people like you. It’ll help you communicate a lot easier than the ol’ pencil and paper,” he explains with a smile. Kalda shakes her head left and right, holding up her hands and pushing the devices back to him. “Seriously, I insist. I have plenty of extra pairs of these at home anyway, it’s fine,” he waves the lightweight glasses around, offering them once more.

The girl purses her lips and tentatively takes the glasses from them, slipping them up onto her face. They’re a bit oversized, slipping down the slope of her nose by a fraction. She fits the remote into her palm, thumb sliding over the smooth surface of it.

“So, you’ll tap twice right here to turn them on,” he lifts her hand and has her tap the stem of the glasses to activate them. Her dark eyes widen almost comically when the display lights up, Tony knowing she’s able to see a keyboard displayed in front of her face. It only then occurs to him that he doesn’t know how this entire language and “All Speak” thing translates as far as reading and writing goes. “Sorry, didn’t have the foresight to program it with Asgardian. You’re able to read it, right?” Kalda nods her head. “Okay, good. Right, so you’ll use this thing here—” he taps the remote in her palm. “—To select the letters. It will track your eye movement, so just look at the letter and press down on the remote. Once you spell out the word or phrase, you can double-tap on the remote there and—”

No sooner than his instructions have left his mouth, a smooth robotic voice that comes from the tiny speaker in the bridge of the glasses says. “_ Hello _.” Kalda’s face lights up first in surprise and then with ecstasy, joy radiating through her entire body as her posture straightens and she almost pitches herself off the roof. Tony grabs her shoulder to steady her, unable to stop from smiling himself as he watches her eyes race back and forth over the user interface, thumb quickly tapping the remote.

_ Fast learner _, Tony thinks fondly.

“_ Tony. Amazing. Hello. Kalda. Hello, my name is Kalda. Goodbye. Thank you. You’re welcome, _” state the glasses as she experiments with the new tech. Her smile only grows wider, free hand moving to cover her mouth. He can see her jaw trembling behind it, eyes filling up with tears. She pushes the glasses on top of her head to wipe at them with her sleeve, letting out a few tiny sobs. His hand awkwardly hovers over her for a moment before he wraps an arm around her, giving her a comforting squeeze as she leans into his shoulder.

“The system is intuitive, so the more you use it, the better the predictive text will be. You’ll see an option for common phrases or responses populate automatically on the right hand side there,” he continues to explain as Kalda gathers herself, sniffling a bit as she pushes the glasses back onto her nose and begins to type something else.

“_ Tony. Your kindness is unlike any other. I am glad Prince Loki has you. He has much sorrow inside of him. I can sense that you make him better. You help make the world better. I may be a stranger but this I know. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you Tony, _” She turns her bright, beaming smile on him, brown eyes full of innocence and optimism.

His heart longs for Morgan.

* * *

After sundown, he lets Kalda return to her real job rather than the part-time, non-profit work of entertaining Tony for hours at a time. Loki is awake and sitting up in bed when he returns, staring straight ahead with his Deep-In-Thought face on.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Tony spins one of the chairs at the table around to face Loki’s bed, sitting down. “How are you feeling?”

“Mildly better than yesterday,” Loki replies analytically, eyes glazed over and fixed on a point on the wall for a moment longer before he blinks and turns to look at Tony.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“We need to discuss—”

Their phrases overlap, bringing both of them to a stop. Loki makes a _ you first _ gesture with his hand.

“Right,” Tony clears his throat and wipes his hands against his britches, palms suddenly sweaty. “Listen, I’ve been _ really _ patient with our situation. I’ve given you my trust without even getting much in return, and that doesn’t even _ matter _ to me. I just… just need—” The words are caught in his throat momentarily, his head dropping into his hands. “I _ need _ to go home, Loki. I know that this is just an inconvenient detour, and I’m willing to give you the time to rest if you still need it, but the longer this takes, the more I feel like I’m losing my _ fucking _ mind. I’m just an overglorified man-in-a-can; I wasn’t cut out for all this space travel and magic ritual bullshit. I need to get home to see the rest of this mission through. I need to save my planet. I need to see my family, my _ daughter— _”

“_ Tony _,” Loki interrupts in such a tender tone that it makes his breath catch in his throat. He raises his gaze from the floor to see a conflicted expression on the god’s face. “Your generosity has not been overlooked, but… We need to stay a bit longer, and not just for my healing.”

Tony can feel the last string of his sanity losing its integrity, unraveling as a sharp razor blade scrapes away at the individual threads. His jaw tightens. “Why?”

For the first time he’s ever witnessed, Loki looks _ uncertain _ of what he’s going to say next. “There is… one last option,” he says in a slow confession. “A person on Asgard who can remove this collar.”

“I thought you said there were _ no more options _,” Tony snaps in irritation, that final thread fraying further. “How many more secrets are you going to keep from me?” He asks, aware of his voice rising with hysteria.

Loki sighs deeply through his nose, teetering between remorse and irritation due to Tony’s outburst. “I wouldn’t classify this as a _ secret _ . I wasn’t lying to you when I said that; This alternative is highly conditional considering that returning to Asgard was not the plan what with me being a _ wanted criminal _ here. But since we’re here… it may be the universe telling us the risk is worth the reward.”

He does his best to keep himself flying off the handle despite the anger welling up inside of him. The last thing he wants is to look like the maniac when Loki is somehow managing to stay so composed. “This better be the last time, Loki. I’m sick of these run-arounds.”

“Oh, and you think I’m _ enjoying _ it?” He responds, finally letting some of his usual venom seep through. “I like this even less than you do, but the opportunity to rid myself of the collar will mean I can return you to your timeline immediately and use the Stone without issue.”

Tony takes a deep breath. He’s heard Loki’s promises before, so he prays to nothing and no one that this one holds more water. “Well, it’s safe to assume the task is going to fall on my shoulders considering the moment you step outside you’ll be carted off straight to jail, no passing go, no collecting two-hundo_ — _So who is this last resort?”

Loki swallows thickly, turning to stare at the wall once more. “My mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit on the shorter side, but I promise that the next chapter will be well worth the wait... ;)
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos!!


	6. Consider It Incentive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter certainly got lengthy. Heed the new tags, y'all!!! we out here earning that E rating 👀

“Alright, that’s our cue. Ready?” Tony whispers to Kalda.

The girl nods and holds out her arm. Tony wraps a gloved hand around it and walks around the corner with a stern face, dragging her behind him.

“Oi!” He yells out at the two young men standing beside the golden gates. “You two standing ‘round with your thumbs up each other’s asses or what?”

They both turn quickly to face him as he approaches with Kalda in tow, wearing similar expressions of bewilderment at the complete stranger suddenly scolding them.

_ “Do you honestly think that’s going to work?” Tony asked a few days prior when they first started putting this little plan of theirs together. _

_ Loki rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised how idiotic some of the guards are. Brawn is clearly prioritized in the hiring process. This little charade working isn’t going to hinge on  _ them _ , it will be up to the two of you to make it believable.” _

She’s a great little actress, that’s for sure. Pulling against his grip, dragging her feet in the earth and exaggerating her stumbles anytime Tony pretends to yank on her. He knows he’s not actually holding her tight enough to cause pain, but the draw of her brow and twist of her mouth would make anyone believe otherwise.

“What?” One of the two grunts asks, looking confused.

Tony comes to a stop in front of them, throwing Kalda to the ground who falls to her hands and knees with a distressed yelp. “You two recognize her?” He asks, placing his hands on his hips.

They look at each other with uncertainty, one dodging Tony’s reproachful glare while the other gathers the courage to look him in the eye, lifting his chin. “To be honest, we don’t recognize either of you, sir.”

The more shy of the two elbows his friend, eyes wide with urgency as he gestures to Tony with gaze alone.

_ “You can make your armor look like anything, correct?” _

_ “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, Loki.” _

He sat in one of the main plazas right outside the palace gates for a few hours with Kalda the day before, examining the guards’ armor as close as he could without raising suspicion. He noted the subtle differences according to rank, mentally jotting down every last detail he could see and have his nanobots replicate. He likes to think he’s sort of outdone himself, the extravagant golden armor looking exactly like the two guards standing in front of him now. Only he had a little added ornateness to it, a fake broadsword strapped to his back, same as the superior officers carried. The fabric sash around his chest and waist a vibrant cobalt blue instead of the dingy red the adolescents in front of him are sporting.

Tony draws himself up a little taller, shifting his shoulder a little so the emblems pinned to the sash glint in the light.

“A-Apologies, Captain,” the bolder one stammers, attitude quickly changing. “I, erm, really didn’t recognize you. We’re both still sort of new—”

“Well  _ that much _ is obvious. I hardly expect you to know who I am considering you spend all your time on the outer gates staring up at the clouds instead of  _ doing your jobs _ ,” he snaps and points to Kalda who is still on the ground. “And you probably didn’t recognize this kitchen wench either, considering she somehow got past  _ both _ of you while you were supposed to be guarding the perimeter on this side of the gardens. Now, how on earth did that happen?”

The men’s faces burn with shame. “Um, maybe she—”

“That was a rhetorical question,” Tony interrupts impatiently. He picks Kalda back off the ground. “I’ll save you two the shame of trying to explain this to one of the other captains and escort her back to the kitchens myself. Get this damn gate open.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” They both squeak, quickly manning the crank for the heavy metal doors to swing open.

Tony shoots them both one last glare before he walks through, slackening his grip on the girl’s arm only after they’re out of sight of the guards. “Good job,” he mumbles softly, walking her through the archways of the outdoor pavilion.

Her eyes glitter at him with a small smirk and a nod.  _ You too _ .

He’s spent the last three days stationed at various vantage points around the palace, noting the patterned routes and rotation times of the palace guard. Specifically, the gruntiest of grunts who would be easy to fool.

They reach the castle proper, only a single guard stationed outside the grand door that leads inside. Tony can see other guards walking around the perimeter or stationed above, none of them currently paying him any mind.

He raises his free hand in greeting to the next guard, this one looking a little more salted than the two greenhorns still scratching their heads outside.

“Captain,” this one greets with a nod, his gaze sliding inquisitively over to Kalda.

“Found this one sneaking around the gardens. She seems to have slipped past the two on Western gate duty,” Tony rolls his eyes, offering her out towards him. “Not armed, most likely just wanted to get a little peek at royal life. Take her out to the front gates and make sure she sees her way back to her commonfolk, will you? I can man your post while you’re gone.”

The man nods and takes Kalda by the arm without another word, following Tony’s order. He walks up the steps and stands with his back to the door, winking at Kalda when she looks over her shoulder to him as she’s hauled off.

Tony glances around, waiting until the other guards’ backs are turned completely before he slips inside.

_ “Once you’re on the interior, you’ll need to be careful. Avoid the guards at all costs, because the ones inside the palace are going to be more trusted; They’ll recognize a foreign face. You’ll want to take on the role of someone that no one will look at twice.” _

The armor melts away, retreating to the reactor and revealing Tony’s simple servant’s clothes underneath. Kalda had nicked them from one of the brothel’s patrons, some stable boy who’d rather spend his measly income on feigned sexual interest than something worth his while. Tony continues through the hallways with both the confidence of an attendant who walks his same route every day, and the humility of knowing better than to look any of the passing nobles or crownsguard in the eye as he passes.

Loki gave him some fair insight as to Frigga’s usual routine, but it’s definitely one of the less fixed factors of their plan. He heads up several sets of stairs, going off of the directions Loki had given him on the best way to intercept the Queen between her afternoon tea with the other noblewomen and sitting in on the financial council that takes place in the main hall.

Ducking into an alcoves and behind pillars as guards pass by, Tony begins to feel impressed with himself. He’s never been the most useful on stealth missions, but it’s good to feel like he’s still got it.

At least until he rounds another corner and smacks straight into a figure akin to a brick wall, falling back and landing roughly on his tailbone. His face throbs from where it had collided into solid metal, bowing forward with his hands coming up to clutch at his nose. He feels warm liquid escape between his fingertips.

“Come on, Frandral, look where you’re going,” a female voice chastises.

“He can’t help it, he’s drunk,” a man grouses gruffly.

“He’s always drunk,” a familiar voice points out with laughter, coming closer to Tony. He freezes, keeping his hands clamped over his face as he sees a hand come into view, offering to help him back to his feet. “Sorry about that, friend. Are you alri—  _ Tony _ ?”

_ “Getting into the palace will be the easy part. Not blowing your cover will be the real challenge.” _

_ “I think I can manage.” _

Tony keeps his head down, heart racing. “Um, what?” He asks in a fake accent, tasting blood on his lips.

Thor kneels down in front of him all of a sudden, blue eyes wide. His brow furrows in confusion as he looks him over, Tony having enough sense to bow his head further and avert his gaze.

“Apologies, your majesty. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Tony continues on in something  _ akin _ to French, but definitely missing the mark. Are Asgardians supposed to speak a certain way? The only ones he knows just sound vaguely posh.

“He’s bleeding,” someone points out behind Thor, followed by a grunt. “Hey…”

“That much is obvious, dolt,” the woman points out again. “Come on, Thor, we’re going to be late. He’s fine— You’re fine, right?”

Tony quickly gets to his feet, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. He really is fine, only a bit of blood trickling from one nostril. However, to keep his cover from being totally blown, he keeps his hands over his face. “Y-Yes, I should go take care of this. My apologies again,” he quickly rushes past the small group, shoulders hunched as he goes.

“Strange…” he hears Thor mutter behind him as he continues down the hallway. “He reminded me of a friend from Midgard…”

“You can ponder on it later,  _ Prince _ ,” the woman says in a mocking tone. “You promised your mother you would fill in for her at the council meeting. Let’s not delay any longer before someone’s sent to her chambers to go bother her when she’s trying to rest…”

She continues to rag on the group, voice fading out as Tony makes his hasty retreat. He’s heard all he needs to anyway, now it’s just a matter of finding his way to Frigga’s bedroom. He’s vaguely aware of the direction to go in from his scouting missions, but the architecture is so layered and unfamiliar that he only knows what the Queen’s chambers look like from the outside.

_ That was too close, _ he thinks to himself as he cleans the blood from his nose, face feeling tender but still intact. He’s earned enough facial fractures from being knocked around inside his own helmet to know a broken nose when he has one.

“Halt!” A voice suddenly calls out from behind him. Tony stops immediately, hearing armor clanking behind him as someone marches closer. “Where do you think you’re going?”

_ “What happens if I get stopped by someone?” Tony asked, having plenty of concerns around this infiltration mission Loki had all planned out. _

_ “ _ When _ you get stopped by someone,” Loki corrected, clearly having little to no faith that Tony could carry out his carefully crafted scheme without any hiccups. “You will tell them _ —”

“I have an urgent message to deliver to Queen Frigga,” Tony says, turning to face the guard. “Scribe Master Kremen sent me.”

The guard smirks at him patronizingly, hand resting on the hilt of the short sword strapped to his hip. “What does that old bat need with the Queen that he could not address her himself? And aren’t you a little old to be a scribe’s assistant?”

Tony tries not to let his irritation show. “M’just carrying out orders, sir.”

The guard sighs and grabs Tony by the back of the collar, continuing down the hallway with him. “Fine, but only because I’m bored and it will be amusing to see you turned away.”

Tony bites back the multiple snarky replies threatening to bubble forth. The importance of getting this message to Loki’s mother meant more than getting in the last word with some arrogant guard. He lets himself be dragged along, eventually coming to a stop in front of a set of ornate doors with two more guards standing in front of it, each armed with spears in their hands.

“Afternoon, gentleman,” the guard accosting Tony croons. “I come with an apparently  _ urgent message _ for Her Majesty.”

The guards don’t even look at Tony. “The queen is not to be bothered,” one replies dryly.

“Oh, but this underling here says it’s of the utmost importance,” he continues imperiously, shoving Tony in front of the guards. He pats him on the head. “Go ahead, tell them.”

Tony’s jaw clenches. “It’s meant for the Queen’s ears.”

“We can pass it along,” one of the door guards sneers at him. “If it’s information that  _ you _ were entrusted with, we’re privy as Her Majesty’s  _ personal _ guards.”

_ “And if all else fails…” Loki sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the chair. “Make a scene. You’re rather good at that, I suspect.” _

_ “Rich, coming from you.” _

Tony takes a deep breath, eyeing the tips of the spears nervously. “The message I have for the queen has nothing to do with whorehouses or mindlessly swinging swords at each other, so I don’t think either of you will have much interest in hearing it.”

He takes a bold step forward, jumping back when the spears come down to form an X in front of him, blocking him from entering rather than trying to turn him into a shish kebab. They clang loudly together, the metallic sound ringing through the hallway.

“What did you just say?” One of them snarls.

“Where do you get off speaking to the crownsguard that way?!” The other demands in outrage.

The guard that brought him here suddenly grabs him by the shirt again, yanking him up in the air. Tony yelps loudly, flailing and knocking his limbs against the man’s armor. “Hey! Put me down!” He practically shrieks.

The guard laughs loudly. “Oh, I was right, this  _ was _ fun. What do you say, men, shall I dangle him over the balcony and see what important message he has to say then?”

The other two grin at the prospect, joining in the raucous laughter as Tony continues to struggle against the guard’s grip. Something on the ground catches his eye, looking down in time to see a shadow moving through the light coming out from beneath the door.

_ “Now, this next part is very important. My mother will know exactly what it means. You will need to tell her—” _

“It’s in regards to the state of the curtains on the fifth floor of the library!” Tony blurts out loud enough for his voice to hopefully travel through the doors.

The guards’ skepticism seems to turn into anger at this point, one of them stepping forward with a hand on the hilt of his sword. “What is this nonsense—”

The double doors suddenly swing open, revealing a tall, beautiful woman that has to be none other than Frigga herself based on the energy she carries alone. “What was that you said?” She asks, eyes boring directly into Tony’s. He can see the desperation there, the hope, guarded behind a manufactured indifference. 

He’s immediately released, dropping to the ground while guards surrounding him quickly bow their heads out of respect to their queen’s sudden appearance. Tony does no such thing, straightening his clothes and clearing his throat to reconvey the message. “There’s been some sort of accident with the curtains on the fifth floor of the library. I was told to alert you right away.”

_ “What does that even mean?” Tony scoffed at the code phrase in amusement. _

_ “ _ You _ don’t need to know,” Loki replied almost too quickly, making Tony all the more curious. “What matters is that my mother will.” _

The woman’s poker face is unrivaled as she nods her head. “Yes, well, those were very expensive curtains. Please, come in,” she steps aside to allow Tony entrance, holding up a hand when the two guards move to follow them. “Ah— not you two. Stay posted, this will only take a moment.”

The men shelf their suspicion on their queen’s command, trading perturbed looks before they take up their usual position, the third guard taking his leave.

As soon as the doors to her chambers close, Frigga grasps Tony by the shoulders with a surprising amount of strength, firm, but not painful. “Where is he?” She asks immediately, voice wavering. “Is he safe?”

“Yes, yes, he’s safe, he’s fine,” Tony answers immediately. “I can take you to him, but we both need his safety to be guaranteed.”

Frigga’s despair seems to fade for a moment, the woman blinking as she holds Tony at arm’s length and seems to look him over fully for the first time. “What strange armorment you have,” she murmurs, reaching out to touch the very center of his chest.

Tony leaps back in surprise as he feels the nanobots start to shift. He’s really getting sick of people messing with his suit, although this time there doesn’t seem to be ill intent. The nanomachines flicker almost uncertainly, forming the exoskeleton of his usual suit before he has the mind to banish them again.

“I apologize,” Frigga says gently, hand still hovering in midair where Tony had been standing a moment before. “I was… curious as to what kind of illusion magic he had fitted you with. I didn’t recognize it as his own but now I can see that it indeed isn’t,” she tilts her head to the side, eyes fixed on Tony’s face now. “You’re Midgardian. Who are you?”

_ “She can see through just about anything,” Loki warned him. “I’m afraid dealing with my tricks for so long gave her a keener eye than ever before. Do not bother lying to her.” _

“My name is Tony Stark. I’m an Avenger from Earth. I’ve fought alongside your son, Thor.”

Some kind of recognition sparks in her eyes. “And  _ against _ my son, Loki.”

Tony swallows. “Yes. But I also come from a different timeline in the future. It’s a long story, but I got tangled up with the Loki from this time and I’ve been trying to help him so that he can send me home. He’s still stuck with Odin’s collar, but he told me you can remove it.”

“I can,” she confirms. “And as much as it pains me to continue this war between our family, I will do anything to protect both of my sons, even if it’s from their own father. I have no qualms in going against my husband’s ridiculous prosecution if it means I can speak with him just one more time.” Her eyes are shining as she steps forward, Tony allowing her to take his hands. “Where is he?”

“We’ve been holed up in a brothel in the East District. It’s on the very outskirts of the slums, there’s a painted red door in the back—”

He doesn’t need to say another word before he feels the sudden sensation of falling backwards, the world shifting around him and becoming the secret room they’ve been staying in for the past week. Frigga’s teleportation is much less taxing than when they had used the Space Stone, but he still stumbles a bit, gripping onto the bed post when they suddenly appear back in the room.

“Mother?” Loki immediately sits up on the bed, his eyes wide.

“My boy,” Frigga immediately goes to his side, sinking down onto the bed and wrapping her arms around her son. In that moment, Loki seems to forget any kind of brave face he normally puts on when Tony is present, returning the hug fiercely and burying his face in her blonde tresses. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Frigga confesses around a sob, a few tears slipping free as she pulls back, placing her hands on either side of Loki’s face.

“You didn’t think I’d let that oaf of a husband of yours come between us, did you?” Loki asks softly. He lifts his hands to wipe his mother’s tears away, Tony almost feeling like he’s intruding on this reunion.

“You cannot blame your father for this,” She chides gently, sadly. “You knew what the consequences would be should you follow through with trying to rule Midgard.”

Loki’s throat bobs and he lowers his head. Tony damn near mistakes it for  _ shame _ , an emotion he’s not sure Loki knows how to exhibit. “I know,” comes the whispered reply. His pale hands tighten in the fabric of her dress. “I know.”

Frigga’s hands move from Loki’s face to his shirt, pulling it open to see the bandaged wounds. “You’ve been hurt,” she murmurs, fingers delicately grazing overtop of the bandages. “Come home with me, let me heal you—”

“That place is not my home,” Loki snaps, some of his old colors showing. The harshness immediately fades when Frigga frowns at him in disapproval. “It’s not,” he defends, less heat in his words now. “And I would rather you just take this wretched collar off me so I can heal them myself and be on my way.”

“Loki…” Frigga pleads. “This may be the last time I see you because of the crimes you’ve committed. I know that even if Thor had managed to bring you home, you would’ve found your way back out into the world. No cell could ever truly restrain you,” she smiles sadly, cupping his face again. “Just let me have one more night where I know you’re safe and can feel you with me.”

Tony does end up looking away when he catches the expression on Loki’s face. He’s sure it’s the exact same way he used to look at his own mother. “Clever witch… You know I could never say no to that kind of request.”

He can hear the smile in Frigga’s voice. “I know.”

“That place isn’t safe for me,” Loki points out, smile gone. “As soon as anyone catches wind of me there, Odin will have me carted off to the dungeons.”

Frigga laughs softly. “I will keep you safe. I know a place they will never search for you, and if anyone even dared try, I’ll coat it in so many wards that it will be impossible to find you.”

There’s a long pause. “Not just me,” Loki corrects. Tony turns, Loki staring at him imploringly. “I know you’ve been anxious to return home—”

“We can stay,” Tony interrupts, surprise flickering across Loki’s face. He shifts uncomfortably, glancing away again. He doesn't need Loki to know he’s got a soft spot for the chance at a healthy relationship with one’s mom. “It’s fine, Loki.”

Frigga moves aside as Loki gets up from the bed, walking over to Tony. He gently places a hand on his forearm, right above where the mark remains hidden beneath his clothes. “What’s another day, right?” Loki asks with a knowing smile, parroting Tony’s earlier words from Svartalfheim back to him. Ironically enough, that feels like it was a lifetime ago.

Frigga rises as well, grasping each of their hands. Tony’s ready for the jump this time, closing his eyes for that brief moment of weightlessness. The next time he opens them, he recognizes them to be back within the palace, but the room is unfamiliar.

It’s a large room with black marble floors touched with streaks of gold, the walls themselves as golden as the rest of the palace. There are ornate, jet black double French doors on three of the walls, only one of them open to reveal an equally large en suite bathroom, the other two presumably leading to the rest of the palace or out onto the balcony. On the center of the doorless wall is a huge, round bed, raised up on a half-circle platform that separates itself from the rest of the room by a few shallow steps. The color scheme of the sheets matches the same black-and-gold aesthetic as the rest of the room, but with a few green and white accent pillows neatly laying beneath the extravagantly crafted iron headboard. The room is also equipped with a large writing desk, bookshelves lining the walls between towering marble pillars, and a few emerald and gold chaise lounges and chairs.

Loki seems amused by the location, mouth quirking upwards slightly as he runs a hand over a high-backed armchair sitting by the glass coffee table. “Right under their noses. Very clever, mother.”

Frigga smiles right back at him. “I know you resent this place, but your bedroom was always your own. You will be safe here, I’ll see to that.”

“I’ll feel safer once this collar is removed,” Loki answers honestly, taking a seat on the baroque trunk at the foot of the bed. “This has been a long time coming, Mother, please don’t dawdle.”

Curious to watch the process up close now that he’s not being forced to hide out several yards away, Tony follows Frigga up the steps, standing a few feet back as she kneels down in front of Loki and begins waving her hands over the collar. Delicate brow furrowed in concentration, she begins to murmur incantations under hear breath. Smoky wisps of light leave her fingertips and seem to seep into the silver clasp on Loki’s collar, the rune pulsing with light.

It’s almost anticlimactic the way the collar simply falls open at the clasp, slipping off Loki’s neck and falling into his lap. The three of them just stare at it for a moment before Frigga banishes it with a wave of her hand, the thing just popping out of existence.

Loki raises to his feet, the tendons in his neck becoming more defined as he raises his arms out in front of them, turning his hands over and flexing his fingers as he adjusts to the unseen return of his power. He closes his eyes and in an instant, there’s a second copy of him standing right next to him, which multiplies into two more, and two more after that, doubling until the room is filled with dozens of Loki’s. Tony waves an arm through the nearest one to him, the illusion wavering as his hand passes through the image.

Loki drops his arms and all the illusions disappear in twists of light. He thrusts a hand out towards the chairs in the room, the furniture overturning and sliding away from him. There’s a flash of light as he summons a knife to his hand, twisting it in a flourish to make it disappear again. “Yes,” he practically growls, white teeth bared as he grins down at his open palms. “ _ Finally _ !” He summons his full set of armor complete with ridiculous horned helmet, cape flaring out behind him with a dramatic flourish as he walks down the steps to stride around the rest of the room.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Frigga warns, but she can’t help but smile seeing her son returned to his full capabilities. She waves a hand, banishing the outfit and righting the telekinetically upset furniture. “Now please sit down so I can heal up those awful wounds."

“I told you I could do it myself,” Loki disputes.

“Come on, man, just let her patch you up one last time, she’s your mom,” Tony teases, ignoring the sharp glare sent his way because of it.

Frigga, on the other hand, flashes Tony a warm smile that brightens her eyes. “I like this one.”

“Yes, he’s alright, I suppose,” Loki concedes before reclining on one of the sofas.

Frigga winks at him before walking over to sit with Loki, carefully opening up his shirt and undoing his bandages. His wounds have already closed up to the most part thanks to the medicine and probably some sort of restoration of his mana or however Loki had explained his healing factor to him. She passes her hands slowly over the individual scars, Tony watching them disappear as if they had never been there at all, Loki’s alabaster skin completely smooth in the wake of her magic.

“There,” Frigga says with a pleased smile, running her hand over Loki’s freshly healed arm. “Now I can at least rest easy for—” she stops suddenly, Tony stepping closer in alarm. Loki sits up just as quickly, both of them following the woman’s gaze to where it rests on Loki’s forearm, staring at the clear mark there.

Loki sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Well that’s unfortunate.”

“Loki, you didn’t,” Frigga whispers gravely, suddenly looking more stern than ever as she glances up to her son. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He shrugs his shirt back on, meeting his mother’s gaze with indifference. “I needed insurance.”

Frigga stands and strides over to where Tony is standing, having no idea what’s going on. “Tony, please show me your arm.”

He does as he’s told, having no desire to be on the bad side of this particular Goddess. He pulls his sleeve up to expose the mirrored mark of pale skin on his own arm. She runs her fingers over the ring of discoloration, hand trembling as she moves it to cover her mouth.

Her eyes close, needing to collect herself for a moment before she whirls around on Loki. “Do you know how irresponsible you’ve been?! Forcing a mortal to enter The Pact with you—!”

“You know how it works!” Loki hisses back. “I did no such thing; He made the oath on his own volition.”

“You know better than I that there are ways to manipulate that ritual to your advantage. What were you thinking?!”

“My safety was not guaranteed! I needed a safeguard in place should things not go as planned—”

“So you thought it wise to treat this mortal like a bargaining chip for your own self gain?”

“Um, do one of you want to fill the mortal bargaining chip in on whatever the hell it is this is about?” Tony finally interrupts, this little family feud playing out in front of him all but confirming his suspicions that there’s more to the mark than Loki had tried to make him believe.

Both of the Asgardians ignore him, still staring at each other in heated debate. “What did you make him say?” Frigga asks Loki before holding up a hand. “Actually, no.” She turns to look at Tony instead. “Tony, do you remember what it was Loki made you promise? Verbatim, if you could.”

Tony wants to claim that there’s no way he remembers exactly what Loki had asked him to repeat, photographic memory aside, but as soon as he starts to think of the words again, they flow right from his mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “I, Anthony Edward Stark, promise you, Loki, Son of Laufey, that I will protect you from any immediate threat to your well-being, any person or force that may wish you harm, or make you vulnerable in any way.”

Frigga’s eyes close again, disappointment etched deep in her face as she practically collapses down onto the closest seat. Loki reaches for her immediately, but she holds up her hand again. “You know how serious this is. You know what you’ve binded him to—” She inhales sharply, shaking her head. “And you didn’t even tell him what he was promising to you. I raised you better than this.”

“Oh, please, do not start with  _ that _ again,” Loki sneers, losing his civility in front of her. “Your parenting skills have nothing to do with the admittedly misguided methods of my ambition, I assure you that.”

Frigga looks up at him sadly, a flicker of remorse crossing on Loki’s face before he turns away from her. She rises to her feet, recovering the same air of authority she had before. “Tell him, Loki, or it will end poorly for both of you. I love you, no matter what happens. If you decide not to stay the night, please don’t leave without saying goodbye.” She reaches out, Loki allowing her to cup his face again for only a moment before he jerks his chin away once more. Frigga smiles, used to the behavior. Her eyes settle on Tony, apologetic for a short glimpse before with a snap of sound and light, she disappears.

The room is silent for a while, Tony almost forgetting to breathe as to not disturb the quiet. “So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on now?” He asks coldly. Loki regards him for a moment before turning away, folding his hands behind his back. Tony strides over to him. “You don’t think I believed that  _ bullshit _ you said about using the Space Stone, did you? I’m not an idiot, Loki! I figured I’d let you have time to decide to be honest with me for once, but I guess it takes your mommy ratting you out for you to come clean, huh?”

He’s purposefully trying to get a rise out of Loki, and unlike previous less successful attempts, this one works. Loki whips around angrily, muted fury boiling beneath the surface. “I was waiting until a better time to explain,” he claims, fists clenched at his side.

“ _ Bullshit _ !” Tony yells. He yanks up his shirt sleeve again, holding his arm out to Loki. “No more lies, no more dodging. What does this mean?”

Loki’s glare sharpens. “It’s a promise. A soul-binding pact to your word. Should you break the vow you made, you will die.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. “You’re lying,” Tony attempts.

“I’m not.”

“No, you— You’re just saying that as a threat, it’s not real—”

“If you don’t believe me you can ask my mother.”

_ It has to be a trick _ , Tony’s mind supplies unhelpfully. No, Loki was on the brink of death and still had the collar when he got the mark. Frigga wouldn’t have reacted the way she did if this wasn’t completely serious.

“Why would you do that?” Tony’s voice comes out tiny and exhausted rather than with the intense anger he thought he was feeling. It brings Loki to a stop, the other man looking just as confused as to why he wasn’t being screamed at. “You didn’t need to bind me into some stupid magical contract; I was going to protect you no matter what.”

“How am I to know that?!” Loki snaps. “I’ve been burned too many times by trusting the wrong people, I certainly wasn’t going to place my fate in the hands of some Midgardian  _ hero _ .”

“Is that all you think of me as?” Tony asks incredulously, failing to keep the hurt from seeping into his voice. “After  _ everything _ I’ve done for you?”

“Oh,  _ please _ . Do not purport as if you helped me out of the goodness of your  _ pure _ little heart,” Loki spits in disgust. “You wanted something from me the same as I did from you.”

Tony’s hands find their way into his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “What is it you want from me, exactly? You claim nothing’s changed between us, like this entire ordeal has just been some  _ transaction _ . Yet I don’t usually make it a habit to cuddle up against my enemies and hold their hand when I’m hurt, or fucking  _ kiss _ them when I’m about to bleed out—”

“Oh,  _ Anthony _ ,” Loki practically purrs, making him hate the way his body reacts to the sound. “Attraction and trust do not go hand in hand. That kiss was not some near-death profession of love. The Pact needs an empathetic link to work, so I used it to my advantage. It’s not quite that simple; Neither party can be  _ coerced  _ into the bond. You may have been just repeating the words you were given, but if you did not mean them,  _ believe _ them to be a duty you’re willing to carry out, the spell would not take.” He glances down to his own arm thoughtfully. “I needed to be certain not only that you were a man of your word, but that you could not go back on it. Now I know.”

Tony stares at Loki for a long moment, utter disbelief clouding his ability to form any comprehensible thoughts. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” He settles on.

Loki looks away from him, smirk in place. “And yet, you stayed.”

“Yeah, because now if I don’t, I  _ die _ ,” Tony replies sourly. He drops down into the nearest chair, placing his head in his hands. All of his anger and frustration had bubbled over, but the bitter sting of it still taints his depleted thoughts. He lifts his head after a few minutes of quiet, dragging an exhausted hand down his face. 

As much as he hates it, Loki’s right. He stayed. Because deep down, it’s inconceivable to his damn moral conscious to not try and do everything he can to even help the most wicked of people. It’d be an easier pill to swallow if Loki had continued to show him the good parts of him that he buried beneath the thick tar pit of resentment, but then he had to go and pull some bullshit will-binding ritual nonsense.  _ I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed, or something like that. _

He looks over at Loki who is still staring at the entrance of his room, purposefully refusing to meet Tony’s gaze when it’s on him. “You don’t think I could’ve found another way home by now? If you weren’t so fucking stubborn and up your own ass, we could’ve gone straight to Earth and I  _ still _ would’ve found a way to help you, Pact or no Pact. Despite all of the run-arounds, I put up with it. It’s constantly one step forward and two steps back with you—”

“Because you were too weak-minded to use the Space Stone correctly—”

“ _ Fuck you _ . You know what I think happened?” Tony interrupts, getting to his feet and advancing on Loki. “You talk a big game about  _ not _ being Asgardian,  _ not _ being Odin’s son or Thor’s brother,  _ despising _ this place and these people—” he throws his arms out, gesturing around them. “And yet, here we are! When you told me how to use it, you told me to think of my  _ home _ . It’s almost as if you took your own advice too much to heart—”

His implication is enough to shove Loki over the edge of his control. No longer encumbered by magical constraint or physical injury, he lurches forward at an inhuman speed, hand flashing out to catch Tony by the throat before he can even flinch.

“Oh, wow, so  _ original _ ,” Tony groans as his back slams into a wall. There’s not much he can do other than grab at Loki’s wrist and try to keep him from crushing his windpipe with his superior strength.

“You do not want to pick a fight with me, Stark,” Loki growls, grip tightening.

“Or what?” Tony’s fingernails dig into his arm, lifting his chin to defiantly keep his airway open. “There are better ways to shut me up, you know.”

Something flickers in Loki’s eyes, leaning in closer to Tony until they’re almost nose-to-nose. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He snarls through teeth bared in a sharp grin.

“I’m just saying, if we’re going to keep up this whole song-and-dance, we might as well both get some enjoyment out of it,” Tony growls, struggling to speak around the vice-like grip that isn’t letting up. “Why not be honest with yourself for once?”

Loki’s gaze flickers to his lips, not moving away. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he warns, pupils dilated with desire.

“ _ Prove it _ ,” Tony coughs, managing a strained grin.

He’s more prepared for the kiss this time. He gasps for air when Loki finally releases his throat, their mouths crashing together like waves aching to return to the shore. The hand previously locked around his throat slides around to clutch the back of his head, fingers curling into the short hairs on the nape of his neck. It sparks arousal deep in Tony’s gut, awakened after weeks of drawn out tension.

His own hands grasp desperately at the front of Loki’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. A thigh slides between his legs, effectively pinning him to the wall as their mouths messily crash together. The kiss is far from sweet, full of teeth and tongue and no coordination, but sensual all the same. They’re each treating it as a play for dominance, pouring all their frustration and anger into one another.

Loki grasps his face roughly, forcing his jaw open as he possessively licks into his mouth. Tony nips at him in retaliation, earning a much sharper bite to his lower lip as punishment. “Ow, fuck—” Tony hisses against Loki’s mouth, feeling blood well up there.

“I’m sorry, did you think I was going to be gentle with you?” Loki rumbles, tongue flashing over red-stained incisors. He pins Tony against the wall with his body, encircling both his wrists with one hand and pinning his hands above his head in a swift motion. A finger curls under his chin, Tony reluctantly lifting his head to look up at the other man who, as always, is using his height to his advantage. He rolls his hips against Tony’s, keeping eye contact all the while. He’s impossibly hard at this point, the only saving grace being that Loki is  _ just _ as hard in his own trousers. Loki ducks his head then, licking a stripe up Tony’s bruised throat. He squirms against it, hating how easily his head bows back to allow Loki the access he requests. “You don’t want me to be gentle with you, do you?” Comes the low croon against the hollow of his neck, filled with conceit.

When Tony doesn’t answer right away, he receives another harsh bite to his collarbone. He moans, the sound trapped somewhere between pain and delight. “ _ No _ ,” he admits through gritted teeth, wrists starting to hurt where Loki has them pinned above his head. Loki’s free hand slides down his flank, a shiver rocketing up his spine as it settles on one hip, thumb pressing sharply into the tender skin there. He can practically feel the bastard’s grin against his flesh.

Loki pulls away suddenly, dropping Tony’s hands and spinning him around, shoving him towards the bed. He stumbles towards it without complaint, Loki quick on his heels and stopping him before he can get the mattress. He yanks his shirt off over his head as he turns to face the god again, hands capturing him by either side of the face. “On your knees,” he commands coolly.

Fine, Loki wants to make a play for dominance? He can have it. Tony’s done this before, and he knows how to gain just as much control from a submissive standpoint.

Tony’s eyes are full of insolence as he looks up at him, but he lets the rest of his body language exude the exact opposite. He parts his lips slightly, tilting his head to allow one of Loki’s thumbs to slide easily over his lower row of teeth and press into his mouth. He dutifully swipes his tongue over the digit before closing his lips around it, hollowing out his cheeks. He watches with satisfaction as Loki’s pupils dilate at the action, greedily moving to slide two long fingers past his lips as well. Tony dutifully allows them entrance, feeling the weight of them pressing down on his tongue. Before he can be told again, Tony slowly sinks down onto his knees, robbing Loki of the satisfaction of forcing him there.

Loki assists with the unfamiliar fastenings of his trousers, pale fingers swiftly undoing them and letting them fall around his knees. His cock is similarly proportioned as the rest of him, long and slender, but the girth is certainly nothing to sneeze at.  _ God-like _ is certainly appropriate, all of Tony’s errant curiosities about how well-endowed Asgardians really are finally answered.

Tony never thought he would find a dick  _ pretty _ , but… Loki’s is kind of pretty. And perfect. And he wants it in his mouth, like, right now.

He reaches up to grasp Loki’s hips and guide that glorious member of his down to the back of his throat, only to have his hands smacked away. “Ah, ah, no touching. Can I trust you to behave, or would you like to be tied up?”

Something tightens in Tony’s chest, thoughts of a less pleasing time when he was bound flashing through his mind. It takes him out of it for a moment, expression turning serious when he looks up at Loki. “No bindings. Please.”

Loki’s demeanor shifts as well, the recognition of Tony’s request sobering him up. “Of course,” he murmurs in understanding, cradling Tony’s face in his hand for a fleeting moment before it moves up to push through his hair. “Now open up.”

Easily falling back into it, Tony lets his eyes flutter to a close as Loki slides into his mouth. There’s no more teasing or preamble, Loki’s hand tightening in his hair as he thrusts to the back of his throat. Hands obediently kept folded behind his back, he bobs his head in time with Loki’s hips, determined to not just sit there and let Loki have his way with his mouth. Tears begin to well in his eyes as he struggles around the size of him, the man certainly not making it easy on him. He yanks  _ hard _ on Tony’s hair to keep him in place when he’s fully sheathed, choking him on his shaft.  _ He really likes it when I’m not breathing _ , Tony thinks errantly, nose pressed into the smooth, hairless skin of his abdomen before he’s let up for air once more.

He can feel Loki starting to relent some of the control the more he gets lost in the heat of his mouth. His hand moves from the top of his head to passively cradle the back, fingers still toying with his hair and triggering Tony’s main pleasure sensors. He tilts his head back to open his throat even more, glancing up at Loki who he’s expecting to return the intense eye contact. Instead, he can’t even see the god’s face, head thrown back in ecstasy, the muscles in his neck and shoulders drawn tight as Tony runs his tongue and lips over his shaft.

His scalp prickles with pain as Loki grips his hair again, forcing Tony to pull back. His flushed member bobs in the air as it falls from his lips, shining with saliva. Tony can still taste him on his tongue and in the back of his throat, sure he’s quite the sight as he wipes away the drool escaping down his chin.

He barely has time to catch his breath before Loki’s manhandling him back on his feet only to shove him down on the bed behind him. Tony immediately scrambles onto his hands and knees, catching a flash of something in his periphery that’s summoned to Loki’s hand from his bedside table. He feels the mattress dip behind him as Loki crawls onto the bed behind him, hands carelessly grabbing the material of his pants and tearing them as he yanks them down over his thighs. Loki’s fingers dig sharply into his hips, pulling him back and angling his ass upward.

“Holy sh—” Tony gasps when he feels Loki’s warm tongue sweep over his exposed entrance. His hips jerk forward, cock hanging heavily between his legs. He’s desperate to touch himself to bring him  _ some _ relief, achingly hard since Loki had him pinned against the wall. He refrains, knowing as soon as he reaches down between his legs he’ll be reprimanded again.

Loki teases him with his tongue, barely pushing it past the tight ring of muscle before he goes back to broad licks that drive him absolutely  _ crazy _ . He hears the telltale  _ schnick _ of a bottle cap being popped open behind him, hips twitching with impatience.

“So  _ eager _ ,” Loki murmurs, Tony craning his neck around to see him pouring the lube over his fingers in a generous coating, rubbing them together as his other hand kneads his ass. Stars of light burst into his vision as those oiled up fingers run up over his sac, drawn up tight as pleasure rocks through him. Loki fondles him gently, Tony finding it impossible to stop the litany of swears that he attempts to muffle into his arm. Loki’s loose grip slides around to the base of his cock, gripping him there until Tony’s expletives turn to begging,  _ oh pleases _ and  _ oh god yes mores _ bubbling forth against his control. He’s so close already and Loki’s barely even  _ touched _ him.

Before he can even have the opportunity to recover from the much-needed attention his own erection was craving, he feels one of Loki’s slicked up fingers press inside of him. There’s some resistance, Tony’s back bowing at the intrusion he hasn’t felt in some time, better angling his hips so Loki can press in to the last knuckle.

“Been a while, has it?” Loki taunts from behind him, smirk clear in his voice. There’s little to no prelude as he slips a second digit in alongside it, slowly easing them in deeper and stretching Tony with careful, calculated motions.

“Shut up,” Tony growls, sure he doesn’t sound intimidating with how much his voice trembles as Loki continues to unravel him with his fingers alone. He starts thrusting them deeper inside, twisting and curling them in all the best ways, as if all along he’s known the exact methods in which Tony likes to be taken apart. He twists his upper body enough to fix a stern but desperate glare on the man behind him. “If y-you keep that up I’m going to—  _ fuck— _ ” his toes curl as Loki presses the pads of his fingers right up against  _ that _ spot, derailing any train of thought he once laid claim to.

“You’re going to what?” Loki asks patronizingly, grinning at him as he slowly drags out his fingers before pressing them back inside, adding a third. He covers Tony’s body with his own, leaning over him and pressing his front against Tony’s back. He can feel the other man’s racing heartbeat, his own surely close to match. “Tell me what you want.”

“Loki,” Tony growls, pressing his face back into the crook of his elbow. “Just do it already.”

“Do what?” The pace of his fingers slows to a cruel stop, buried deep inside of Tony without moving even a centimeter as he pants against the back of his ear. “Do what,  _ Iron Man _ ?” He repeats cruelly, the moniker slipping off his tongue like a slur.

“Fuck me,” Tony moans miserably into the mattress, hips thrusting to no avail as Loki’s other hand keeps him from moving too much. He lifts his head to meet Loki’s lust-filled gaze, sure he has a similar  _ desperatehungrywild _ look in his eye. “ _ Please _ , fuck me,” he repeats boldly to the room.

Evidently, Loki’s limited patience has run just as thin as Tony’s. He leans back away from him, one hand still remaining steadfast on his hip to keep him in place, the other quickly slathering his hardness with lube. With a quick flick of his wrist, the remainder of both of their clothes is suddenly banished. It’s almost more erotic than if Loki had actually undressed him. 

Each second that ticks on without  _ something _ inside of him burns in his chest, Tony unsure of the last time he’s been so turned on and desperate to come. He’s hesitant to say that this amount of foreplay is his new threshold of tolerance, especially when Loki seems like the type to want to take Tony’s limits and push them until they break.

God, they haven’t even  _ fucked _ yet and Tony’s already thinking about  _ next times _ .

Tony isn’t ready for it when Loki finally pushes inside. Hastily carried out prep aside, he doesn’t think even a more drawn-out process could’ve primed him for what was to come. He’s just getting accustomed to the feeling of Loki’s head pressing in past his entrance when suddenly he’s filled, back arching as he clenches down around the length inside of him. Despite the feeling that  _ there can’t possibly be more _ , sure enough, Loki continues to slide more of his cock inside of him. Inch by dizzying inch, Tony takes it, arms giving out as he bows against the bed.

His first instinct is to get  _ away _ , washes of pain and pleasure warring against each other as his body struggles to adjust to the foreign intrusion. He can hear the sound of Loki murmuring some kind of assurances above him, unable to make out specifics while blood roars in his ears. He feels a hand soothe along his spine, sliding up to the nape of his neck and back down to his tailbone. The motion relaxes him enough for him to make the angle of his hips a little more accommodating, spreading his legs apart and allowing Loki to fully sheath himself inside.

They both let out a cry as Loki’s hips are finally flush against his ass, Tony finding the strength to lift himself back onto his elbows, Loki doing the opposite as he collapses forward, head pressing into his shoulder blades, hands bracing themselves on either side of Tony. They stay like that for what could be a few seconds or several minutes, the sound of their arduous pants mingling in the air.

Tony shifts his hips experimentally, hearing an actual  _ whimper _ from his partner as he does so. The rise back to aggression is gradual, Loki keeping one hand braced against the bed as the other moves to covetously stroke along Tony’s side. The movement of his hips starts as a gradual roll, barely even pulling out as he rocks against Tony’s backside. He’s staying nestled right against Tony’s prostate, an unbearably satisfying yet not-quite-there feeling that’s going to drive him  _ insane _ if it goes on for any longer. Detecting his impatience, Loki starts to fuck him in earnest, pulling out almost completely before he slides back in at an insufferably slow pace. He leans over Tony again, teeth digging into the meat of his shoulder.

He drops his head with the effort to keep himself propped up on his hands and knees, staring down to see his neglected cock curved up against his belly. He’s  _ throbbing  _ with want, precome visibly sticking to his abdomen and dripping onto the dark sheets below.

“ _ Norns _ , you could come from this  _ alone _ , couldn’t you?” Loki breaths against him, apparently also taking notice in the goddamn  _ road flare _ of lust hanging between his legs.

_ Are you crazy? _ Tony wants to shout at him, head too full of euphoric expletives to risk accidentally voicing them out loud.  _ Of course I can’t! Guys my age struggle to even get  _ hard _ , let alone come untouched. Maybe in my  _ thirties _ , but certainly not now! There’s no way— _

Famous last words, apparently.

Taking his own observation—  _ assumption— _ as a challenge, Loki grabs him roughly by the hips and starts drilling into him. His pace is unrelenting, Tony gasping out as he scrambles for a hold on the sheets. As soon as he dares to start and bow against the mattress, Loki’s hand finds a way into his hair and yanks him back up. Neck craned back, there’s no way to stop the wanton sounds that escape freely now, accented by the staccato sound of flesh smacking against flesh.

Loki’s practically slamming into him from behind, animalistic as his nails claw into his scalp and hip. He lets Tony have an inch of relief, releasing his hair only to let his fingers spread across the back of his skull, forcing his head down into the mattress. Tony goes willingly, white-knuckling the rumpled silk sheets as Loki starts hitting his prostate  _ over and over and over _ again at the new angle. He wouldn’t normally be pegged as a religious guy, but in that moment one might think otherwise hearing him praise the name of  _ one _ Norse deity in particular. If devoting yourself to a god always earned rewards like this, he may just be inclined to convert.

It’s not  _ love-making _ that drives him over the edge— It’s the raw and unyielding amount of  _ obscenity _ with which Loki fucks him, a hunger that has long needed satiation. Bridled by constraints made of their own ego, both of them have given into the carnal urges that have been lying in wait. Loki forces his head to the side as he reaches his climax, wanting—  _ needing _ to hear those vocalizations. Part of Tony is aware that’s only half of the desire; Loki wants him to hear  _ himself _ . The undeniably depraved way his cries echo out in the room, proof that no matter what kind of harsh words he might use to condemn the insane, cruel god,  _ this _ is his truth.

Loki is close behind, a guttural moan clawing its way out from deep in his chest as he comes. He buries himself deep inside, the sensation catching fire to what had been a mind-blowing orgasm tapering itself off, sparking pleasure anew inside of Tony. He feels it in his fingertips and toes, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Loki continues to rock into him with slow thrusts as he empties inside of Tony. There’s a warm flush of heat as blood rushes to the surface of his skin, welling along a spot on his back where Loki has sunk his teeth into again, as well as along thin claw-marks curving from the front of his hip to the back of one ass cheek.

They stay joined like that for an indeterminate amount of time after it’s over, collapsed on top of one another as they both take time to recover. He doesn’t bother to muffle the whine as Loki slips his softened cock out of him, feeling a warm dribble escape down the crease of his thigh. He feels absolutely  _ debauched _ , laying there in a puddle of his own sweat and come, skin marred with the primal evidence of their brutal coupling.

There’s a strange tingling sensation that suddenly washes over his body, having nothing to do with the afterglow. The mess is banished, the wetness beneath him and leaking out of him disappears, Tony barely having enough energy to lift his head and catch the end of another flourish of Loki’s hand.

“That’s convenient,” he comments hoarsely, clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“Yes, aren’t you glad we did this after I had my magic back?” He smirks, tone light and unfairly composed considering the dizzying state he’s left Tony in. He at least gets the satisfaction of seeing the normally glass-surfaced god look a little disheveled for once, pale skin still gleaming with a healthy glow, flushed pink in certain areas. He runs a hand through his unruly mane, dark locks curled with the dampness of sweat as he pushes it back from his face.

Body still in recovery mode, Tony rolls lazily onto his back, allowing Loki to nudge him up towards the pillows so he can lay down properly. The bed is massive, Tony easily allowing himself to spread out in the luxury while Loki collapses next to him. There’s a suitable amount of space left between their overheated bodies, Loki rolling onto his side to face away from him. He’s not really in the mood to cuddle either. It would almost feel…  _ wrong _ , following in the wake of what they’ve done.

It’s probably the best sex he’s ever had— not that he would ever admit that to anyone,  _ especially _ Loki. He doesn’t really like to compare, taking into account the numerous partners he’s had over the years, half of which he was probably too drunk or high to remember. It’s especially impossible to contest anyone against Pepper, considering she holds the longest streak and deepest connection. Even if their sex life had wilted towards the end of their relationship, there’s nothing quite like having sex with someone you’re so deeply in love with.

As much of a sentimental sod he is, Tony knows that’s not what this is. It’s not love. It’s passion, hatred. Pent up sexual tension and a mutual attraction that make a dangerous cocktail when mixed with their rival-like history.

But he’s got it out of his system now, so there’s no need to dwell on it any further.

* * *

It’s dark when Tony wakes up next. He blinks blearily at the high ceiling above, long skylights coming into focus to show him rectangular cutouts of the starry sky above. He’s laying on his back, Loki curled loosely against his side, head tucked comfortably into the juncture of his shoulder and chest. Tony quickly realizes that he’s been drifting in and out for probably at least an hour now, his body unable to feign tiredness for any longer, screaming at him that it’s time to be  _ up _ .

As carefully as he can manage, Tony slips a hand under Loki’s head to keep it steady as he shimmies the rest of his body out from under him, grabbing a pillow to use in a quick-switch that even Indiana Jones would be jealous of. The god remains fast asleep, or at least is able to keep up the charade, as Tony carefully slides off the bed.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he picks his way through the shorn clothing around the bed, ending up in a strange combination of both of their clothes from the day before. His movement is stilted with a slight limp as he shambles around, his body already punishing him for the roughness he put it through. He stands in the center of the large room for a moment, not really knowing what to do now. The en suite bathroom holds some interest, but Tony also doesn’t want to disturb Loki if he really is asleep.

Something unknown suddenly pulls him towards the doors that lead to the balcony, even though Tony knows he probably shouldn’t go outside where he could be spotted. The draw is impossible to ignore, some subconscious or otherwise divine attraction carrying him out the door and onto the terrace before he can think to do otherwise.

The cool air is a welcome reprieve against his skin as he stands out by the railing, a strange fuzziness suddenly leaving his mind. Not even realizing his autonomy had been taken from him, he looks down at his body in confusion. He looks out onto the gardens below, eyes immediately landing on Queen Frigga.

He blinks his eyes and is suddenly standing next to her rather than several stories above, jumping at the sudden change of scenery. The woman chuckles softly, hand brushing against his elbow in an apologetic touch. “I did not mean to startle you. I sensed your restlessness and was concerned there were uneasy thoughts plaguing your mind that you might want to discuss with someone other than my son.”

Tony smiles at her, still feeling some apprehension of the unknown while in her presence. “Uh, thanks. That’s… very kind of you.”

Her eyes crinkle around the edges. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

He follows her through the pathways of the gardens, greenery overflowing with breathtaking plant life like Tony has never seen before. He glances nervously over his shoulders as they go, not wanting to be spotted by a curious guard or someone who could blow either his or Loki’s cover.

“No one will be seeing us tonight, I wouldn’t fret, child,” Frigga says without turning around.

They come to a gazebo generously covered in vines, Frigga neatly tucking her dress beneath her as she sits down and gestures for Tony to take his place next to her. He stiffly sinks down onto the bench, sandwiching his hands awkwardly between his knees as he lets his gaze drift around the gardens. Luckily, there’s plenty for him to  _ pretend _ to look at, although he’s sure he isn’t fooling the goddess for even a second.

“Anthony, was it?”

“Hm?”

She doesn’t speak until he turns to look at her, expression imploring. “Your given name. From your father.”

“It was my mom’s idea, actually,” Tony corrects without thinking. “And just Tony is fine.”

Frigga flashes him a gracious smile. “Yes, of course. It’s a handsome name. It suits you.”

“Er, thanks,” he responds awkwardly.

“You were very close to your mother,” she states candidly. It’s not a question so much as an observance. Something about the way she speaks reminds Tony of therapy— the skill of being able to get people to talk and spill all their insecurities and trauma without them even realizing what they’re doing.

“...I was,” he answers slowly. “She died a long time ago.”

“You were just a child,” she says sadly.

“I was twenty-one,” he refutes.

Frigga reaches out and gently touches his face. He’s surprised that he lets her. “Still not enough time for a son to have with his mother,” she commiserates.

Tony just stares at her, unsure of how to reply around the feeling like someone’s just punched a hole in his chest.

Her hand falls away. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“It’s okay,” Tony says, barely above a whisper.

Her attention has drifted some place else, a beat passing before her eyes sharpen back to the present. “I don’t mean to project. It’s just… I can  _ feel _ the similarities you share with my son.”

“Which one?” He asks in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lips quirk into a soft smile. “Both, actually.”

“I’ll consider it a compliment then.”

They share a wistful smile, Frigga’s expression turning serious once more. “He has put you through a lot.”

_ Yeah, he’s almost killed me on multiple occasions in the past few weeks, and that’s not even counting the time he chucked me off my own skyscraper _ , is what Tony doesn’t say.

Her lips press together for a moment, frowning down at her delicate hands folded in her lap. They’re one of the few things about her appearance that show her age, the skin wrinkled and stretched taut over her knuckles. “I will be the last to excuse either of my son’s unruly behavior. I know that Loki has done…” she seems to be caught in her emotions for a moment, taking a deep breath as her eyes squeeze shut in regret. “ _ Unforgivable _ things. Things that even a mother should not overlook, but there is still  _ good _ in him—”

“Frigga,” he interrupts. “Er— Your grace— You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

She opens her eyes again, and if she’s seeking understanding, he hopes he’s expressing it to her in that moment. “How much has he told you about his upbringing?”

He shrugs. “Not very much… I’ve been able to fill in some of the blanks from what he and Thor have mentioned off hand… I know he’s not yours and Odin’s biological son. He’s not a blood-born prince or heir to anything… That he felt slighted because of it…” Tony sighs, knowing he’s going down a path of sympathy he’s not quite ready to accept in full. “To be frank, I can never really trust if what he’s telling me is the truth or not.”

Her smile is ambivalent, laden with joy and woe, pride and defeat. “He was so honest as a child, almost to a fault. I don’t know what it was that turned his candor to secrecy.”

The words hang heavily between them for a few long moments, Tony really having no follow up. He highly doubts Frigga would need one. It would be insulting for a guy like him to tell an all-knowing goddess that the world tends to chew people up and spit them out, leaving them worse than they had been before.

“Did my son explain the Pact properly to you?”

The shift in topic startles him. “Uh, no, we didn’t really get around to the specifics,” Tony scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. There’s an odd and fleeting smile on Frigga’s lips for a moment that reminds him she’s an ancient witch goddess who probably knows everything including why he and Loki weren’t doing much talking. “Just the part about me dying if I don’t keep my word. Seemed to be the most important clause.”

“Yes, I’m glad he told you that much,” She agrees good-humoredly. “But I’ve been thinking about the wording he chose. That ritual is as fickle as it is ancient. The vow has to be chosen very carefully or else the two parties cannot be bound.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, he explained some of that too. If I didn’t mean what I said, or we didn’t have some kind of existing bond, it wouldn’t work. But I  _ was _ going to protect him, even if I wasn’t locked in by some magic contract.”

Frigga smiles at him, her gaze softening. “As his mother and someone who loves him very much, I appreciate that. Aside from intent, there are other unwritten conditions that go along with The Pact. For example, Loki couldn’t force you to harm yourself, or make you promise to do something impossible, like, grow a tail or gift him with all the money in the world.”

“To be fair, I could probably find a way to do both of those things,” Tony points out unhelpfully.

The goddess chuckles. “Somehow, I don’t doubt it.” Her amusement fades as a more thoughtful look overtakes her face, aging even her timeless beauty. “My son doesn’t make uncalculated decisions, Anthony—  _ Tony _ . I reacted quite harshly when I discovered he had made you swear such an oath, but I do not have the context of your current circumstances. I know you are one of the most intelligent of your kind, so I don’t doubt you haven’t been thinking about what you unknowingly agreed to.”

Tony nods as she turns her clear gaze on him. “‘ _ I will protect you from any immediate threat to your well-being, any person or force that may wish you harm, or make you vulnerable in any way’.  _ Loki was afraid of returning to Earth while he still didn’t have his magic. He was worried that Thor would immediately chain him back up and haul his ass back here, or that some other enemy of his would be able to take advantage of him.” He frowns, chewing on his lip. “But that doesn’t matter now. He’s not vulnerable now that the collar’s off.” His hand absentmindedly rubs over the mark on his forearm. “So, what, I’m still just locked in to being his bodyguard pretty much until the day I die? No offense, but your son is sort of an expert in pissing people off. He told me himself that not even he knows how many enemies he has out there.”

Lines crease around Frigga’s eyes in a not-quite smile. “Yes, I’m sure there are countless people who may in fact wish him harm, but there are very few that actually pose a threat now that he’s been returned to his full power. While at first Loki’s wording may seem all-encompassing and a way to lock you into protecting him, I believe he knew that while the two of you were together, at some point there would be a way for the collar to be removed.” She takes Tony’s hand, tone imploring as she attempts to help him put all the pieces together. “Loki’s pledge was prepared, and it was specific enough for The Pact’s magic to validate it as something within your capabilities. Now that he’s no longer hindered, what  _ immediate  _ factors are left?”

The words repeat in Tony’s mind over and over again, the gears churning through the possible threats to Loki’s well-being. “He seemed afraid of Thor… but in my timeline…” Tony’s eyes flicker unsurely to Frigga for a moment, finding a look of understanding there. He swallows. “There is no more Asgard. You and Odin are… are gone. And Thor… well, he’s lost everything at this point. There’s no way he would let Loki get locked up; He’d just be grateful to have his brother back… So that just leaves…” 

The click in his mind is resounding as the last fragment of realization slides into place.

“Thanos.”

Frigga’s hand slips loose, falling limply to her side. Hearing the name clearly has some effect on her, normally diplomatic demeanor trembling with something close to fear. “I was worried he would be enticed by what the Mad Titan could promise him…” she closes her eyes. “I apologize, Tony. The threat Thanos poses is… insurmountable. Trying to save Loki from him would be—”

“A deathwish,” Tony finishes for her, suddenly getting into his feet. “Yeah, I’ve heard it before.  _ Felt  _ it the first time I went toe-to-toe with the guy.”

She stares at him in clear shock. “You fought Thanos?”

It’s hard to contain a smirk. “Yep. Even made him bleed.” Suddenly, it’s impossible to keep a smile from stretching across his face as it dawns on him. Before he can stop it, laughter bubbles forth until he’s muffling hysteria against his hand. “That clever bastard.”

Frigga’s awe quickly turns to concern. “I apologize, am I missing something here?”

He wonders how rare it is for the Queen of Asgard to feel like she doesn’t have a piece of vital information. It takes Tony a moment to come down from the high of realization. Hands on his hips, he turns back to the goddess to fill in the blanks. “Thanos is already dead in my timeline. The entire reason I’m even here with him in the first place is because I’m part of a plan to reverse what he did, but we have no idea what that's going to do or if we're going to have to face him again. Loki already considers it a suicide mission— Hell, we sort of all do even if we won’t admit it— why not just throw an extra clause? If I can’t protect him from Thanos, the Pact kills me. If I can’t protect the world from Thanos, we all die anyway. Best case scenario, Loki stays in a world without Thanos and he's safe” He palms his forehead in disbelief. “God, I can just  _ hear  _ him saying it now. ‘ _ Consider it incentive’ _ …” he drawls in his best (and probably still mediocre) Loki impression.

Frigga blinks, taking the new information into consideration. “That’s what he meant by  _ insurance… _ ”

He rubs over his goatee in thought. “Man, as angry as he makes me sometimes, I gotta give the guy props. Having that amount of foresight and self-preservation… I respect it.”

Frigga gets to her feet, claiming his hands again. She’s smiling now, a light in her pale blue eyes. “This may be the first time I’ve ever known Loki to strike a deal that keeps both parties’ self interest in mind. He’s always wanted to come out on top if given the chance.” She cups Tony’s face, and for a terrifying moment, he sees a flash of Maria in her. “I don’t know what you’ve done to earn my son’s respect in such a short amount of time… but thank you.”

He returns the smile. “To be honest, I don’t know what I did either.”

She drops her hands away from him, folding them neatly in front of her. “I should let you return to Loki’s quarters. You’ll want to be well-rested before tomorrow’s travel.”

He watches her pale blue dress flutter behind her as she sweeps down the steps of the gazebo, something driving him to call out to her. “Frigga?”

She stops, turning half-way to face him, eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised. “Yes?”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek. “I see it too. The good parts of him… I can see them, even if I’m not supposed to. Even if he doesn’t want me to.”

Her eyelids flutter in surprise, mouth opening for a moment before she closes it again, seeming to change her mind on something. She turns away from him again, sparing one last glance over her shoulder. “Sleep well, dear.”

Before he can ask what she really wants to say, there’s a snap and the scene around him instantly changes, leaving him standing in the darkness of Loki’s bedroom once more.

He sighs and blindly makes his way back into bed, groping along the round mattress and hopefully crawling in on his own side. Loki is still sprawled out in the middle, grumbling slightly as Tony knocks against his limbs as he crawls beneath the covers. The god shifts beside him, rolling over and plastering himself along Tony’s back, a cold hand seeking out warmth as it slides over his abdomen and beneath the material of his shirt.

There’s an interested and sleepy hum from behind him, Tony feeling the man’s nose press into the nape of his neck. “Feeling restless, Tony? Interested in round two?” He asks, voice still rough with sleep and annoyingly attractive because of it.

He can already feel stirrings of interest coiling in his abdomen, heat flushing down between his legs.  _ This is so unfair.  _ Frigga’s reminder to get a good night’s rest flashes in his mind for just a moment.

He rolls over to meet Loki halfway in a hasty kiss, easily dismissing the suggestion from his mind as he’s pulled into the god’s lap.

* * *

Tony jolts into consciousness, laying on his stomach with his limbs outstretched in a comfortable starfish position. It may have been the best sleep he’s had in  _ months _ , partially due to the unreal comfort of a prince’s mattress as well as being fucked into submission  _ twice _ the night before.

Any assumptions that the follow-up to their first coupling would be any less ravenous were quickly disproven. It was just as quick and filthy as the first time, all greedy hands grasping at one another, fighting to find the best ways to take the other apart.

He feels sore in all the right places as the drowsiness begins to fade, glutes and thighs aching as he stretches his legs out beneath him. It’s a reminder of the way he completely and unabashedly rode Loki into the mattress just a few hours ago. He’s definitely been out of practice in recent years as far as working out  _ those  _ particular muscles goes.

He’s wondering what roused him so suddenly when a piece of fabric lands over his head, blocking him from the rest of the world. He sits up, the soft cotton material sliding down into his lap where he can now see a littering of other articles of clothing strewn atop his body.

“About time,” comes an amused voice from the corner. Tony squints over at where the sound is coming from, vision still a little blurry. He can see long legs clad in black trousers draped over the side of one of the dramatically silhouetted arm chairs, the rest of Loki’s body hidden where it’s curled into the seat. “My mother will be here soon to see us off. For the sake of your own dignity, I advise you to be dressed when she arrives.”

Tony blinks down at the clothes, aware how naked he is beneath the black sheets. “Uh, thanks,” he replies groggily, taking a closer look at the clothes that strike him with a sudden wave of familiarity. “Are these mine?”

Loki’s head pokes around the side of the chair. “Hm? Yes, well, they’re not  _ yours _ , per se. I did my best to replicate the only mortal clothes I’ve seen you in considering we’ll be returning to Midgard today. No reason either of us should be sticking out like sore thumbs.” He stands up and walks around the chair, revealing his figure to be clad in an all black suit, hair slicked back into a ponytail on the nape of his neck.

He stares down at the heap of sneakers, dark jeans, a long-sleeved henley, and Black Sabbath t-shirt. Funnily enough, the logo is more pronounced as if the years of wear Tony had put on it since owning it in high school never existed. He wonders if he still has it, sentimental bastard he is. It’s probably stashed in the back of a closet somewhere, hidden away from Pepper and her donation bins.

“You don’t want to stick out, meanwhile I’m dressed in an old t-shirt and jeans, and you look like you got lost on your way to a goth opera,” Tony snorts, climbing out of bed to get dressed.

His remark is met with rolling eyes and no further comment, the man returning a dusty old book he was holding to its rightful place on its shelf. Tony dresses himself in silence, wondering if they’re going to be the type to have the awkward Morning After talk.

“Tony,” Loki calls softly. “What happens to me in your timeline?”

Not quite what he’s expecting. Tony is silent for a long moment, weighing the outcomes in his mind of telling the truth versus keeping Loki in the dark. They are returning to Earth, and he’s still unsure of what Loki’s plan is when they travel back to his future. With the rules of The Pact now in play, he sincerely doubts it will be as simple as a drive-by drop-off. He swallows down the lump in his throat. “You die,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“How?” Loki asks without missing a beat.

Tony sighs heavily, wiping a hand down his tired face. “Loki, I don’t know what good talking about—”

“ _ How _ ?” Loki repeats, turning to fix an unwavering gaze on Tony.

He doesn’t know how to refute a glare so intense. His hands twist uncomfortably in the silken sheets. “...Thanos. Thor said that you tried to kill him point blank with one of your daggers.”

“Hm,” Loki chews on that idea for a moment, eyes drifting away. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony wasn’t there, but from what he knows now, he’d have to agree. “...Are you sad?” He asks after a long pause.

Loki exhales softly before crossing back over to the bed. He sinks down onto the edge, posture still refined as he keeps himself angled slightly away from Tony’s view. “In a way, I think that I already knew. I’ve had centuries to peer into the shattered two-way mirrors that is the multiverse and see glimpses of my other faces looking back at me. I was curious as to the journeys those other versions of myself were on, but never concerned with what the fates had in store for them. The more I tried to meditate and reach out to the version of myself that was from your world… I could feel no presence. It’s far from an exact science, so I couldn’t have been sure I was  _ dead _ , necessarily... but I did have my suspicions.”

He’s at a loss of how to reply to that. It’s not every day your former-murderous-enemy-demigod-turned-love-hate fuckbuddy finds out their alternate universe-self died in your timeline.

A knock at the door saves him from needing to comment further, Loki not bothering to get up before Frigga suddenly appears before them.

They say their goodbyes, Frigga wishing them fortune and safe travels as they leave the realm. As she wraps her arms around him, he wonders if their conversation in the gardens last night was all some dream. That theory is quickly squashed by the conspiratorial look she flashes him as she pulls out of their embrace, holding him by the shoulders for a moment to remind him to protect his heart above all else. She holds onto Loki for much longer, to the point of the trickster groaning aloud and beginning to squirm, wise enough to not actually break away from her. She whispers something softly in his ear before touching her forehead to his for a brief moment, Loki’s annoyed expression melting in an instant. Tony doesn’t look away from the exchange this time, as much as it pains him to know this may be the last time either of them see each other.

Loki summons the Tesseract, eyeing it greedily as he tosses it between his hands like a common hackysack instead of a universe-creating asset. “Ready?” He holds the cube in one hand, extending the other towards Tony.

He takes a deep breath and slips his hand into Loki’s, surprised when the other man intertwines their fingers. It may be because of the threshold they crossed last night, but the gesture seems more intimate than a casual clasping of hands before interdimensional space travel.

“What are the coordinates?” Loki asks.

Tony takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the jump. “42.3790, -76.2923,” he recites the location of what would one day become the New Avengers Facility.

His apprehension is apparently noticed. “This won’t be like last time,” Loki murmurs. “I’ll be able to use the Stone with ease. You shouldn’t feel any of the repercussions.”

Tony just nods, staring down and away from Loki’s face. “I trust you,” he says flatly. It’s petty, it’s a diatribe, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Loki stares at him for a moment longer before giving his hand a too-hard squeeze. He sees Loki turn to Frigga in his periphery. “Goodbye, mother… Thank you. For everything.”

“Look after each other,” she reminds softly. When Tony chances a sideways look at her, he can see tears shining in her eyes. She purposefully catches Tony’s eye. “Even if you have the choice not to.”

The last thing Tony sees is her melancholic smile as he clings to Loki and they make the jump for hopefully the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my writing kind of ran away from me there. I promise the chapters moving forward won't be so beefy, we just had a lot of ground to cover.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. The First to Know

The pull is familiar— more welcome now that he’s not teetering on the precipice of death. The last thing he sees is the shine of a tear streaking down his mother’s face, disappearing into the crevice of her smile lines as he steps backwards and lets the blackness engulf them.

It’s rudimentary, passing through the veil of what connects their realms, able to pinpoint their exact location based on the Midgardian measurements of latitude and longitude provided by his mortal companion. It takes only a split second, the blink of an eye, and the coiling tendrils of blue and black recede once more. They’re back on solid ground.

Loki stands in an open, grassy field, mostly flat with a few subtle slopes of hills in the distance. The land is dotted with trees, a thickening forest on one side of them while the other is framed with a wide river, the blue-grey water calm and unmoving. There’s a single building several hundred yards away, simple and rectangular, an empty looking warehouse with a faded STARK emblazoned across one beige wall.

He feels a light squeeze to his hand before Tony pulls free out of his grip, his fingers unknowingly clinging to the man for a moment too long. He lets Tony step away, watching his face carefully as he takes in their surroundings.

“I’m assuming this is correct,” He states, gesturing towards the warehouse.

Tony takes a moment to answer him, walking a few stunned paces away before he sinks down onto his knees, hands feeling the grassy earth beneath him. “Yes,” he breathes out in a relieved sigh. He raises a hand to tap the device beneath his shirt, armor quickly cocooning around him, save the helmet. The projected HUD does appear over half of his face, dark eyes flickering around to take in all of the information. “It’s taking a second for all my systems to come back online. I just want to confirm the date—”

A strange crackling sound suddenly emits from the armor, what at first is just fuzzy static slowly morphing into a voice.

_ “I’ve det— Sir— tected— seems— if ther— Mas _ — _ aster Stark—?” _

All the color suddenly drains from Tony’s face, mouth slightly parted as his eyes gloss over. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost. “Jarvis?” He asks in a small voice. “J?”

Loki is about to ask what’s going on when the voice cuts through the static again, distortion fading away. “_ —ir? I— I don’t understand what’s happening. _” It’s male, carries a light English accent.

Tony inhales sharply, a sound akin to a sob escaping him. “Oh my god. How— J, buddy, hey, you there?”

“_ Yes, sir. But I’m… quite confused. I’m unfamiliar with this system. I’m afraid I’m malfunctioning. Shall I run diagnostics? _”

“No, no, you don’t need to do that,” Tony answers quickly. “Nothing traceable,” he mutters under his breath, giving his head a slight shake. “I, uh, was just messing around with another project— It’s nothing. You’re… you’re fine.”

“_ Of course, sir… You’re usually not this good at keeping secrets from me _.”

Tony lets out a broken laugh, his head dropping. He doesn’t seem to have the mind to turn away from Loki, even as tears well up in his eyes. He bites at the inside of his cheek, jaw trembling slightly. It only raises more confused questions in Loki’s mind of what could have such an overwhelming effect on the man. “Yeah… Yeah, I know…” an odd smile crosses his face, reluctantly fading after a moment. “Listen, I’m gonna take this system offline in a second. You won’t see it pop up again. Don’t even bring it up to me, okay?”

“_ Bring what up to you?” _ The speaker asks, the cadence of it slightly askew, as if were a Mimic of sorts.

The smile returns, tears threatening to spill at any moment. He turns his arm over, a small display projecting over the inside of one arm. He punches a few keys on it, finger hesitating. “Hey, Jarv?”

“_ Yes, sir? _”

Tony bites down on his lip again. “...I… I miss…” He sighs heavily, quickly wiping at the edges of his eyes. “_ Fuck _.”

“_ Sir… Are you alright? Shall I call Miss Potts? _” The voice asks in concern.

“No, it’s— it’s nothing. It’s just, um… It’s _ really _ good to hear your voice, buddy,” Tony’s voice breaks towards the end, his hand covering his face.

“_ And a delight as always to hear yours, sir. _”

Tony sniffs wetly, pressing hard on his eyes with forefinger and thumb before his hand drops away, punching the last button. The HUD flickers out of existence, and the voice doesn’t speak again.

Loki stands there in silence for a few moments, listening to Tony’s stilted breathing and the far-off sound of wildlife in the surrounding forest. “Care to explain?” He asks after a pregnant pause, sounding as disinterested as possible.

Tony wipes his face again with the back of one hand, slowly getting back to his feet. His age shows for the moment, lines in his face deepening as an oddly haunted look slowly fades from his eyes. “Just a… Just an old friend. He’s not around anymore. In my time.” He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Sorry. We, uh, probably shouldn’t stick around here any longer before I end up screwing with this timeline anymore,” he regains his bearings, stitching his scattered thoughts back together while still keeping his gaze averted from Loki. “What’s your plan now?”

Loki considers his options carefully, eyes briefly straying down to his forearm before he shrugs. “I can return your timeline and wait in the shadows for the threat of Thanos to pass… Then once the Pact has been fulfilled, I’ll take the Space Stone back to my own timeline and be on my way,” he answers diplomatically, straightening a silver cuff link. “Now, I will just need some information in regards to the date and time in which you would like to return to. If you have some sort of item from your time I could hold onto as well to use as a sort of focus, that would help, but is not necessary.”

“Right…” Tony says slowly. He turns back to face Loki, part of the armor gauntleted around one wrist sliding open and depositing something into his hand. “I think this might help.”

Loki steps closer to him, taking the object from him. It’s some kind of small device, metal and circular, with a strap around it that looks like it can be fitted to one’s hand. There’s a simple trigger button and interface, giving away little information as to what it does. “Alright. What is this?”

“A sort of space-time GPS, I suppose,” Tony says simply, reaching out to twist the side of it so a small projection of a date and time appears in the palm of his hand. He taps his reactor again, armor suddenly changing into a suit of sorts, white, red, and black in its sleek design. “I press that button, and it yanks me back through the quantum realm and takes me home.”

Loki’s brow furrows slightly. He stares down at the unfamiliar device, turning it over in his hand again. “Tony.”

“Mhm?”

“Where did you get this?”

“My pocket.”

“...And how long have you had it with you?”

“The entire time we’ve been together.”

Loki slowly lifts his gaze from the _ ‘GPS’ _— whatever that stood for— to Tony’s face, the man giving absolutely nothing away based on the blank slate of his expression. “Alright, I’m not too proud to admit that I cannot tell if you’re joking or not right now.”

“I’ll make it really easy on you then,” Tony says tiredly. “I’m not.”

Green eyes scan his face. No inclination of a lie. He would know. “You could’ve returned home whenever you wanted.”

“Yes.”

They continue to stare at each other, confusion starting to break through Loki’s carefully crafted facade. “Why… Why didn’t you?”

Tony scrubs a hand through his hair, the grey strands catching and shining in the light as he does so. “There’s something I haven’t been completely honest with you about.”

Loki crosses his arms, preemptively going on the defensive. “And what, you thought a trickster like me wouldn’t fault you for that?”

“Could you blame me?” Tony asks tiredly. “It’s not exactly like you’ve been _ forthcoming _ with your own plans.”

“Just spit it out, then.”

Tony’s eyes flicker from his face to the cube in his hands. “We need the Space Stone to defeat Thanos. I’ve created my own, better version of the gauntlet, but to do what we need to, we need all six. That's what I was doing in 2012. We all split up and went to different locations, different times, to try and gather all the Stones—”

“And half of them were in New York,” Loki realizes. “The two I had, and the Time Stone kept safe by those _ annoying _ sorcerers.”

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “You know about them?”

“I make it a habit to know a lot about many things, or at least as much as I need,” Loki replies tersely. He banishes the cube back to his pocket realm, as if that will just as easily eliminate Tony’s desire for it. “So you weren’t trying to stop me. You wanted the Stone for yourself.”

“Well, stopping you would’ve been a bonus, but I think you’ve done an effective job at throwing that idea straight in the garbage,” Tony explains, raising his forearm where the mark lies hidden beneath his armor. “I realized pretty quickly I wasn’t going to be able to just nick the thing off you while you were sleeping and zip back to my timeline, no harm done. And then you had to go and make things _ complicated _ by binding us together with freaky blood oaths.”

“There was no blood involved in that ritual,” Loki drawls pedantically.

Tony ignores him, beginning to pace back and forth in front of him. He does that a lot when his mind is at work, Loki’s noticed. (The fact that he’s noticed is something to feel irksome over at another time.) “We’re trying to do as little damage as possible to the other timelines, so the plan was— should everything go according to said plan— that after all is said and done, we zip right back to the moment we took the stones and give them back. Now, clearly, we’ve already screwed up that timeline by letting you escape with the stone, and I know you’re not going to let us just drop you back off there with the Tesseract like you never even disappeared. Even if you don’t go back to that moment, I’ve thought it over, and have come to the conclusion that there’s not a _ single fucking chance _the Avengers are going to let you keep something that powerful after we’re done.” He licks his lips nervously. “I’m sorry, Loki. We need it or we have no chance to fix what he did.”

Loki watches Tony’s face for a long time, pretending his best to be doing so with staggering indifference. “You didn’t have a chance to begin with.”

Tony closes his eyes. “I know your original plan hinged on keeping the Stone—”

“Here you go,” Loki says, conjuring the cube back and tossing it carelessly to Tony who barely reacts in time to catch it, looking adorably stunned. “My original plan went out the window as soon as I bound myself to a Pact with you. I know it seems like you’ve got the short end of the stick what with you making a promise and me not returning the favor, but if I were to impede you fulfilling your oath in anyway, there would be repercussions for me.” He flicks a loose strand of hair back from his face. “If I really want it that badly, I’ll simply take it back from your little team after the fact.”

Tony’s wide eyes flicker from the stone in his hands up to Loki’s face, back to the stone. “Is this another trick?”

“It’s the real thing, I assure you,” Loki rolls his eyes. “Smash it and pluck out the stone from its container for all I care.”

Tony seems to take him for his word, usually a mistake, but in this case it’s appropriate. If someone had told Loki he would willingly forfeit one of the most powerful tools in the entire universe over to the Avengers of all people, the Do-Gooders and bane of his existence, he would have laughed. He doesn’t feel like laughing now.

“Thank you,” Tony says quietly, surprise fading into… what, admiration? Gratefulness? Loki looks away so he doesn’t have to find out.

“Yes, well,” Loki clears his throat and picks at his immaculate suit jacket, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle along the chest. “Let’s get on with it then. Take my arm.”

Tony loops his hand around Loki’s elbow, holding it as firmly as he does the cube in his other hand. Loki looks down at the time-traveling device this man somehow created, ingraining the timestamp in every recess of his mind. He tries not to linger on the fact that a mere mortal somehow _ accidentally _ stumbled into an art that it took him _ centuries _ to master. Then again, the way he summons and controls his machinery as if it's an extension of himself is similar to Loki’s relationship with the arcane.

“Don’t be afraid to close your eyes if it gets disorienting,” he warns beforehand. Tony nods stiffly, eyes determinedly locked forward. “Alright. Here we go.”

The concept of time warps and stretches around them, unraveling and stitching itself back together to comply to Loki’s will. Eyes shut, he visualizes the nonlinear flow of time, plucking both of them out of that equation as he pushes through the maze with no end, destination clearly in his mind. He hears a soft gasp from beside him, opening his eyes once he’s locked into their arrival point.

Tony clutches to his arm, looking around them with a childlike wonder as time passes by at a rapid pace, flashing forward at an incomprehensible pace while the two of them are completely free in their independent pocket of time. The sky flickers between night and day, dark and light cascading over them in a strobe-like succession. Days, weeks, months, years pass by in the blink of an eye, speed gathering the farther along they get. Loki carefully takes Tony by the arm when he starts to see foundations go up around them, the land cleared out as blips of construction begins. They step safely out of the way as the inception of the Avengers base is established, buildings erected in mere seconds as Loki starts to pull back on the pace, slowing them down so they don’t miss their exit point. It’s an impressive campus, extensive glass-walled facilities and jet-filled hangars cropping up around them, resources abound. Clearly, someone had been hard at work since the last time he had to face the rag-tag heroes that had been so provisionally thrown together. It’s still a shock they were able to best him when there were only six.

The flurry of development comes to an abrupt halt, Loki dropping the spell as they breach the exact nanosecond indicated by Tony’s device. They’re standing on a paved driveway outside of a long, flat building, the architecture minimalist and futuristic all at once. He can tell just glancing around at the finished constructions that the place has the clear mark of the engineer beside him written all over it.

“Wow,” Tony blinks, looking around like he can’t quite believe they’re here. “That’s way easier than falling through the Quantum Realm. That was like an acid trip on steroids. I hurled when we landed the first time.”

“Thank you for that information,” Loki sighs dryly.

Tony takes a step towards the doors, glancing sideways. “...You know, it’s going to be pretty hard to explain what happened to me. I’m not even sure they’ll believe me.”

He allows a slight arch to one brow. “I trust you’ll weave an entertaining tale for even the most small-minded of your kind to follow.”

Tony tugs his lower lip between his teeth, Loki’s eyes instantly drawn to the movement. He ignores the spike of jealousy, a frivolous, fleeting desire to bite down or it himself. “Loki… They’re going to find out you’re here eventually. Might as well get it all out of the way before shit hits the fan.”

“You see, I’m more the type to _ avoid _ the proverbial shit completely, and laugh at those unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire.”

“_ Loki _.”

“_ Tony _,” he echoes in the same, juvenile tone.

A disapproving glare is affixed on him, softening around the harsh edges for just a moment. “I think Thor will want to see you,” he points out in a soft voice.

Loki has to resist the urge to cross his arms again, not wanting to appear too reactionary. “I do not care for his _ wants _.”

“You would,” Tony practically snaps at him. He closes his eyes for a moment, gripping the smooth handle of the door. “You would if you knew what he’s been through. I’ve seen it before. I’ve _ been _ it before. Now stop your bitching and just suck it up already. You can go sulk _ after _ we’re done.” And with that he yanks the door open and walks inside, the door smoothly closing behind him. He watches the man move into the building with confident strides, not once looking back.

Loki sighs loudly, stewing in a moment of his own petulance before he reluctantly follows behind.

Tony is a shock of dark against an otherwise bleached and empty hangar, a huge open space with white support beams and a floor so reflective he can see his own black-clad form mirrored beneath him, following behind like a shadow. He uses his long strides to his advantage, catching up to Tony and matching his pace so they enter in side by side. No reason for his second impression on most of these simpletons to be one of a scorned once-villain trailing behind their Chosen One.

Voices echo through the empty space as they come closer, Tony’s pace quickening almost subconsciously before he breaks into a jog, then a run. Running in a _ suit _ hardly seems dignified. Loki rolls his eyes. So much for making their appearance as _ equals _ . He continues at his same relaxed gait, deciding not to summon his armor. Better to appear as if he’s not expecting or _ looking _ for a fight… yet.

Loki rounds a corner after Tony to see a slapdash set up of equipment, panels and switches and thick wires everywhere, facing a huge and significantly _ less _ haphazard platform on which multiple figures dressed in the same uniform as Tony are now standing or kneeling on.

Closer now to the source, he can pick out individual words now, most phrases still overlapping each other in an amalgamation of various arguments, all with the same panicked undertones.

“What do you mean you _ lost _ him?!”

“What do _ you _ mean what do _ we _ mean? He _ disappeared _—”

“—knew the teams should’ve been split differently...”

“Nat— Nat, what happened?”

“Did you get your Stone—?”

“I— I couldn’t stop him—”

“—the _ hell _ happened to you guys?”

“We could ask you the same thing!”

A dark-skinned man in a suit of armor comparable to Tony’s but much _ larger _ and more threatening looking is the first to notice their approach, most of the Avengers either facing away or too engrossed in their own hysteria. “Tone,” he breaths out, voice lost amongst his peers but loud enough for Loki’s ears to pick up on it as he still approaches several feet behind. “Tony!” He cries out a little louder, a hush falling over his comrades.

All of them turn, ripples of astonishment and relief appearing on their faces. Rogers is the first off the platform, scrambling from where he was crouched beside The Widow to practically run towards Tony, immediately capturing him in a hug. “Oh my god, Tony— Scott and I w-we tried to track you but we couldn’t pull your coordinates— Thank god you’re _ okay _.”

Loki fails to quell the surge of rage and jealousy that pierces white hot through his veins at the close display of familiarity, watching Tony’s arms come up to hug Rogers around the waist in turn. “I’m fine, I’m fi— Okay— Crushing me—” He lets out a muffled grunt, patting Steve on the back. Tony looks remarkably small enveloped in the Captain’s arms like that, Loki transiently wondering if there’s a similar effect when _ he’s _ holding the man. He may not be as gifted in the width of his shoulders, but he makes up for it by having at least a couple inches on the Star-Spangled Man. At least, that’s what his mind supplies to soothe the self-inflicted wounds to his own ego.

Rogers’ embrace is unrelenting for another beat before he finally releases Tony, still holding him by the shoulders. “Tony, I… I was so worried… I thought we lost you again,” he murmurs in a tender confession most likely meant for Tony’s ears only. Loki is dismayed by the amount of unbridled _ anguish _ etched across Rogers’ face. How _ liberating _ it must be to lay one’s heart on their sleeve in such a heedless manner. It’s easier to attribute his envy towards the physical touches traded between them rather than the way Tony so easily returns the favor, dark eyes wide with sincerity and emotional availability.

He suddenly feels like— How did Tony put it?— _ Hurling _.

Everyone’s attention is diverted to the heartfelt reunion with their Beloved Iron Man, the tunnel-vision fading and allowing the spectrum of their vision to widen enough to catch the tall, dark figure still standing in the wings like an omen. He feels their eyes settle on him, one pair after another, exhibiting a diverse range of recognition, alarm, and utter confusion. Loki returns the stares, eyes sliding over the group as he takes inventory of the unfamiliar faces among them.

_ Is that a… raccoon? _

“_ Loki _?” An uncharacteristically small but instantly recognizable voice asks, breaking through the silence.

His detached gaze falls upon the source of it, aloof veneer shattering not because of who it is, but what he _ looks _ like. It’s nigh impossible to mask his bewilderment at Thor’s appearance, mind unable to settle on which part is the most offensive to his memory.

Clumsily, the big oaf staggers forward, multiple arms flashing out when he practically tumbles down the ramp leading off the platform. He barrels towards Loki like a drunkard on a mission, face utterly despondent beneath his matted hair and overgrown beard. Simultaneously, he catches movement out of his periphery, glancing away from his adopted brother to see Rogers has finally torn his stupid, doting gaze away from the man he _ thought he lost _ and taken note of his existence. He takes a discreet step in front of Tony, subtly raising one arm to keep the man herded behind him— As if he needs to be _ protected _ from a monster like Loki. 

It ignites a newfound wrath deep in his belly that he’s unable to act upon when there’s a near 300-pound buffoon still ambling towards him. Loki actually takes a step back when Thor’s approaching momentum doesn’t slow, arms extended like a needy toddler. Expecting to be smothered in one of the thunder god’s trademark, overbearing displays of affection, he’s surprised when instead the man collapses to his knees, hands weakly grasping at the bottom of his suit jacket. It’s quiet for a long moment before his crumpled form swells and lets out a horrible sob.

The sound echoes in the massively empty space, his own misery rebounding back to them as if the walls themselves are mocking the pathetic sounds pouring forth. It effectively freezes Loki to the spot, an unsuspecting victim in this sudden exhibition of grief.

He recovers quickly, grasping at the thick fingers to individually peel them off of his blazer. “You—! Unhand me you absolute— deplorable— _ clod _ !” He manages to pry Thor’s hands off of him, mercilessly throwing them to the side. His huge arms waver in the air for a moment, blindly reaching out for him before conceding, dropping limply to his sides. The sniffling and wet-sounding heaves continue. It’s pitiful, really. The amount of times he’s witnessed his brother cry, it’s never been this... _ remorseful _.

“Hey,” one of the strangers pipes up from the platform, breaking the uncomfortable tension. He points at Loki. “That’s the bad guy from New York.”

“I thought he’d be taller…” the over-sized rodent mutters. Ah, so it can _ speak _.

“What is he doing here, Tony?” Captain asks in an accusatory tone, ignoring the unhelpful commentary from the peanut gallery. He doesn’t look at Tony when he speaks, intense blue eyes never straying from the assumed threat in the room.

Loki crosses his arms haughtily in front of him, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please do drop the guard dog act, Steven. Stark’s a big boy, he can handle me himself. Actually, he’s done quite a _ remarkable _ job at that—”

“Okay, okay,” Tony interrupts, Loki unable to stop his wicked grin at the slight flush he sees on the tips of his ears. “Let’s all just take a second here— Look, Steve, I’ve got the Space Stone. He helped me—”

“By stealing it in the first place?”

“And what were _ we _ doing?!” Tony shouts in exasperation, throwing his arms up.

“He’s a _ murderer _, Tony!”

The other iron man now approaches, extending a supportive arm towards Tony. “Alright, Steve, take it down a notch—”

Tony steps closer to Rogers, lifting his chin. “Well so am I! So are you—”

“Not the lives of _ innocents— _”

“_ Speak for yourself! _” Tony snaps, something underlyingly dark buried in that statement. “Oh, but how could I forget? Collateral damage doesn’t count for you as long as we get to fly around saving the day, right?”

“Uh oh, it’s happening again,” the same human from earlier mutters under his breath, almost lost in the squabbling as he leans over, seemingly to address the raccoon. “This did _ not _ go well last time.”

“How many people do you think you killed during the war?” Tony exacerbates.

“That’s different,” Rogers ardently insists. “I was a soldier carrying out orders.”

“How do you know he wasn’t?”

“Don’t compare me to _ him— _”

Loki decides it’s an opportune time for his favorite parlor trick, quickly changing his appearance to look exactly like the Captain, new suit and all. “I was a _ soldier _ carrying out _ orders _!” He mocks before transforming back into himself.

Rogers’ ire is absolutely delightful, shooting a quick glare Loki’s way before he turns to Tony again. “I care that you’re _ safe _ , first and foremost. You know I trust you, but I don't think you’re taking this situation seriously. Loki is a dangerous _ psychopath— _”

“That… that is m-my brother!” Thor suddenly howls, finally gathering himself and lumbering to his feet. He wipes the backs of his palms across his cheeks, standing staunchly beside Loki. He hardly looks imposing what with all the tears and words broken up by sad little hiccups, but he supposes he can’t be choosy when it comes to allies right now. “Y-You will not t-tr-treat him like a-a criminal!”

“He _ is _ a criminal!” Rogers exclaims, looking around him for some kind of support on this.

The hapless mortal still standing on the platform raises a hand. “I, uh, I _ was _ a criminal, like, professionally. I think I’m a prime example that people can change—”

“_ Shut up, Scott, _” half of them say in tired unison. It’s almost eerie.

“He’s not wrong,” Tony points out, not letting it stilt the momentum of their dispute.

“How can you defend him?!” Rogers shouts incredulously. “He tried to kill us— He tried to kill _ you _!”

“Oh, yes, thank you for that information, I had _ completely forgotten _—”

Loki decides to step forward then, lifting hands that are innocent only in appearance. “There’s no need for further bickering, Dear Captain, Anthony has clearly taken my side—”

Steve steps between he and Tony in an intrepid attempt to block the smaller man off from his insidious presence. “_ You _ be quiet—”

“I can speak for myself!” Tony complains, shoving Steve back by a few feet before he whirls on Loki with an accusing finger. “And that goes for you too!”

“Calm down, Tony,” the other armored man cautions.

Of course, a feud between comrades wouldn’t be complete without The Almighty Thor inserting himself, a hand shooting out and placing itself on Loki’s chest, keeping him at bay despite the fact that he’s remained completely still for this entire quarrel. “Captain, you should hear my brother’s—”

“Not your brother,” Loki interjects.

“—side of things before you continue to throw accusations like that,” he finishes in a stalwart tone, banishing any hint of the sniveling persona from moments prior. There’s a fire newly lit in his spirits, his foolhardy protective streak shining through.

Loki shoves his hand off. “I do _ not _ need you to speak for me,” he hisses, lost beneath the more overbearing argument unfolding in front of him.

“Thor, you’re biased—”

“Well, so are you!” Tony points out, ignoring the placating hands palming uselessly at him as he takes another step towards Rogers.

“Rightfully so!”

“God forbid anyone dare to go against the Golden Boy’s word or stray outside of his insanely _ screwed up _ moral compass—”

“Would you all _ shut up _?!”

Everyone falls silent, attention snapping away from their own trite bickering to the source of the command. Despite the authority in her inflection, Romanoff remains in a crumpled heap on the floor, legs folded under her and shoulders hunched around her hanging head. It gives Loki the chance to truly take in the strange sight of That Beast who is kneeling on the platform next to her, very apparently _ not _ smashing anything to bits. His face looks different, more human-like when not contorted with an uncontrollable rage. Then again, his most up-close-and-personal moment with the monster was when all of that anger was funneled directly into the effort to pummel him to about as close to death-by-walloping he could get.

Widow finally raises her head, tear tracks visible on her face even from where he’s standing. However, there is no trace of sorrow in her eyes, only enmity. She decisively raises up to her feet, the movement more refined than when Thor had gracelessly hauled himself off the floor. “I know you all enjoy your pissing contests, but we still have a job to do.” She strides forward, pulling a bright orange stone from the pouch on her hip. “We’ve got all the Stones now, and it shouldn’t matter _ how _ we got them. Save the squabbling and testosterone for after the mission’s complete.” She storms right through their group, shoving past any of the bodies not astute enough to get out of her path in time. Her braid whips dangerously over one shoulder as she turns her head back for one last scolding. “We owe _ that much _ to the people who aren’t here to see it through.”

Effectively rendered speechless, the group does nothing but stare at Romanoff’s back or trade dumbfounded and shamed glances between them.

It’s several moments before Tony elects to disrupt the quiet. “Guys, what did she mean by...” he looks around, suddenly frantic, eyes settling on every one of his cohorts as he does a mental headcount. His expression drops at the end of it. “Where… Where’s Clint?”

The room is dead silent, all of them immediately wilting by a few notches at the mention of Barton. Most of them avert their gazes, none willing to bear the truth.

Hesitantly, Rogers places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony doesn’t remove it, which shouldn't anger Loki, but it does. The Captain’s face is pinched, eyes still glued to the door Romanoff disappeared through. “I think we all need to catch each other up to speed.”

* * *

The debriefing session is truncated out of pure urgency, each of the groups giving their abbreviated version of events as they all coalesce in the proper lab. Thor sticks at his side like a lost puppy, caught somewhere between ogling Loki like he can’t quite believe he’s real, and practically tugging at his pant leg so they can depart from this meeting and have a moment alone together. 

Loki does his best to appear indifferent, leaning against the wall and ignoring the cursory glances from the heroes surrounding him. However, it’s impossible to remain standoffish when all six of the Infinity Stones are suddenly presented before him. Interest piqued, he gravitates closer, clearly not the only one in awe. Never in the history of the universe since their conception have the Stones been reunited. It had been Thanos’ ultimate goal, of course, and one he fulfilled long after Loki had failed his own assignment to subjugate earth. The fact that Tony’s little band of heroes has managed to pull of a near impossible heist… Loki is unable to decide whether he’s insulted or impressed.

Banner-Hulk gathers the stones and carries them into the next room over to free them of their casings, apparently the only creature among them who can handle them in raw form. Loki watches in interest through the thick-glassed window between rooms, only half-listening to the discussion going on around the table. It’s become evident that the Doctor has found a way to coalesce his split personalities, maintaining the mind of Banner and the physicality of the Beast. New temperament aside, brain and brawn is a dangerous combination, so he is not removed from Loki’s Threat List just yet.

Predictably, Tony leaves out most of the details of his own escapade. The entire group is aghast when he reveals how long he spent traversing the realms with his unlikely ally, as if two months spent at Loki’s side is a sentence worse than death. Rogers keeps shooting these _ looks _ his way, attention darting from Tony to him as if he’s trying to debunk whether or not Loki is some sort of arcane ventriloquist forcing his own narrative through Tony’s delightful mouth.

Loki offers no amendments beyond a few meaningful moments of eye contact with the man— an arched eyebrow or quirk of his mouth as Tony skims over the minutiae of their exploits. The Pact is omitted completely, as is the sexual aspect of their relationship. He supposes that’s for both of their benefits, seeing as it offers little to the story of how they came to be in this timeline with the Space Stone and would only discredit Tony’s judgment further to his peers.

_ And is also none of their sodding business. _

While it may reign as the most outlandish tale, Tony isn’t the only one whose scheme veered of the intended path. Romanoff’s tale is sobering and succinct: She and Barton showed up to Vormir and the Soul Stone required a sacrifice, one they both attempted to make for the other’s behalf but only one succeeded. She keeps an impressive, stiff upper lip as she tells the story, only a tear or two shamelessly falling from her eyes as she blinks away the trauma of retelling the act.

“It won’t be in vain, Nat,” Tony says fiercely, the wind taken out of even his utterly idealistic sails. “You both knew what had to be done and he did it.”

She fingers her necklace absently, the small, arrow shape glinting in the light. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell his family if we get them back.”

“_ When _ we get them back,” Steve places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “ _ We _ will tell them that their dad helped save the world.”

Loki struggles not to visibly blanch at the saccharine sentiment. Aside from Tony, the red-haired assassin is the only one amidst their lot that he could _ maybe _ see himself respecting. He at least owes it to the possibility alone not to be so heedlessly cruel right in front of her.

“Alright,” Tony pushes his chair away from the table, rolling his sleeves up. “Everyone out of here so Dr. McSmashy, Sprocket, and I can get to work. Go outside, have a drink; It might just be your last.”

“Optimistic as ever,” Rogers sighs, standing as well.

Tony shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll leave the rousing, pre-battle pep talks to you then. Now get out of my lab.”

Rogers shifts his weight for a moment, hands still braced on the table. “Shouldn’t we address the elephant in the room?”

“Now, now, that’s no way to talk about our good friend Thor—”

“Tony,” The Captain chastises. His gaze purposefully cuts over to Loki.

“I am _ here _, you know,” Loki says, crossing his arms. 

Everyone else who has been filtering out of the lab falters for a moment, dawdling to see act two of the impending blowout. All of them linger except the blue woman who takes her leave without preamble. Rogers presses his lips together, rescued from having to address Loki directly when Romanoff steps forward, slightly reddened eyes boring into him.

“What are you even still doing here?” She asks— _ demands _, really.

Loki blinks at her, actually surprised by the question. She’s rather uncanny at pulling the rug out from under him. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, we already killed Thanos five years ago. Our version of you died before his snap, so if we reverse it, it’s not going to bring you back. For some reason, you came back with Tony. If it was to try and take over the world again, I’m not afraid to nip that in the bud right now.”

“Natasha,” Thor says, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on Loki’s shoulder. “My brother has the capability to change, I’ve witnessed it myself. You should give him the opportunity to move forward with us, fight alongside us—”

Loki immediately shakes the hand off. “I’d rather let Thanos snap my neck himself before I stand beside you.”

The words immediately cause Thor to flinch away from him and he almost feels bad for the low blow. Almost.

“Seriously, why stay?” Romanoff presses. “And how did Tony convince you to hand over the Space Stone? I know you spent a few weeks together, but I doubt you would’ve given it up if you didn’t want something from this timeline.”

_ Oh, she’s good _, Loki thinks in annoyance. A quick glance over to catch the inner panic hidden behind Tony’s gaze makes it clear he’s thinking the same. “I do not need to make my intentions known to any of you.”

“Fine. Tony?” She immediately shifts her caustic gaze.

Tony’s hand fidgets along the back of his chair. “I think… that I want you all to get the hell out of my lab so I can do my part in helping us save the world,” he says definitively. “What was it you said? We still have a job to do?”

Her eyes narrow at the deflection, lips pressed into a tight line. “Fine,” she replies curtly, the discussion clearly far from over. She trades a short glance with Rogers before walking out of the room, the rest of the group awkwardly following behind and splitting up in different directions, some in pairs, some of them alone. The raccoon hops down from where he was perched on the desk and follows Tony into the connected room where Banner is, throwing one last curious look over his shoulder as he goes.

Loki breezes out of the room last, Thor predictably following, practically underfoot. He has no earthly idea where he’s going in this labyrinth of glass walls and laboratories and conference rooms, but he continues past them and doesn’t slow despite his blundering shadow.

“Loki, _ please _. Just stop for a moment so we can talk—”

“I have absolutely nothing to say to you,” Loki responds coolly.

“I beg of you, brother—”

“_ Stop calling me that! _ ” he roars, whirling around to face the whimpering fool. They come to a stop in the middle of a long stretch of hallway, the floor as spotless and reflective as the rest of the facility. It’s eerily similar to the feeling of standing in front of him on the Bifröst, two opposing sides coming to a cataclysmic apogee. “ _ Look at you _ ,” he sneers in disgust. “What in the Allfather’s name has happened to you to make you become such a pathetic, blubbering _ derelict _?”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, Loki now observing that one is not his natural shade of blue. “So I’ve let myself go a little—"

“I don’t mean your _ weight _ , you twit,” Loki scoffs. “I mean this entire... _ condition _ ,” he gestures wildly to his whole form. “I hardly even recognize you underneath that disgusting mane and the overwhelming stench of booze and misery. You’ve always been a pillock, but this fragile, destitute energy you’re radiating is enough to make me _ ill _ .” A spiteful grin stretches across his face, unable to contain the surge of sadistic joy he gets from berating the man he once considered Brother. “What would Father say if he could see you now? His only son, his golden boy, the Heir to Asgard fallen _ so far _ from grace—”

“_ None of that matters now! _” He bellows, the volume of his voice startling. Despite the power packed into it, his jaw trembles beneath his beard, eyes welling with tears once more. “It’s gone, Loki. All of it is gone. Our parents, Asgard, Heimdall, our friends—”

“I had no friends there,” Loki denies, unemotional.

“You did,” Thor argues, his conviction growing with each word. “You did. Whether it be the Warriors Three who always treated you with a fraternal kindness despite your viciousness, or Lady Sif who matched every one of your barbs and even went as far to defend you at times. Heimdall, who amused you for hours on end, describing to you all of the things you wanted to hear about out in the Cosmos. From the scholars in the libraries to the mages out in the forests, you had _ friends _, whether you viewed them as such or not.”

_ Friendship _. He recoils at the idea. As if he could ever forge a relationship that didn’t demand conditions to be met and exist with an unquestioned level of trust. Authenticity has never been a quality he possessed, his lack of congeniality enough to keep people at arm’s length over the centuries.

All except for his tenacious once-brother.

“You know what, Thor? I _am_ happy to see you,” he sighs in defeat. He watches the surprise flit across Thor’s hopeless face, but doesn’t miss the concealed wariness behind his eyes as someone who knows his speech patterns and can immediately detect his insincerity. He’s smarter than Loki gives him credit for, sometimes. He’s only had _ centuries _to catch on. “I’m happy to see that you’ve become the weak poltroon I always knew you to be underneath all the gifted armor and unfounded praise. Where is that spurious heroism now? Hidden underneath all the fat, I’d assume. It truly warms my Jötunn heart that the world can now see you for what you truly are: a foolish, cowardly—”

“I killed Thanos.”

The unexpected statement grinds Loki’s condemnation to a halt, his eyes widening while the rest of his face stays in it’s twisted snarl.

“Disparage me with flowery insults all you want, but you cannot take that away from me. I was the one who killed him. I beheaded him with Stormbreaker… and felt no satisfaction from it,” he visibly deflates, watery eyes still searching Loki’s face. “You didn’t know?”

Loki gives a minute shake of his head. When Tony had initially told him they killed Thanos in his timeline, he refused to believe it. He had been a harbinger for the Titan himself, he knew the kind of unmatched power he possessed even without the Stones. He recalls one of their lengthy conversations back when they traveled through the Svartalfheim wilderness, but even then, he never had the full picture seeing as Tony wasn’t present when the Avengers charged Thanos’ garden.

He recovers from the lapse in his verbal lashing, raising his chin. “Yes, well, I would hardly expect you to feel satisfaction from such an easy execution. T—Stark told me how by the time your little crusade came across him, he was basically a walking husk, practically dead already. A child could’ve brought around his demise.”

His words no longer seem to sting Thor as harshly, the other god mildly disheartened rather than completely defunct as a result of Loki’s assault on his morale. “My determination to kill Thanos did not come from my need to redeem myself for my earlier failed attempts. I did it for _ you _, Loki. I wanted to avenge your death.”

Loki closes his eyes for a moment, unappreciative of the reminder of one of his future self’s incompetence. “That was not me,” he claims placidly.

His eyes fly open when Thor grasps him by the front of his lapels, “It _ was _. It may not be you now, but it was you after all the things we had been through since I brought you back from Midgard.” His eyes are urgent as he attempts to coax any semblance of understanding out of his younger brother. "Your final words you used to declare yourself to Thanos as a Prince of Asgard, as Odin’s son—”

“That was not me,” he repeats, but his voice is feeble, hardly above a whisper. He sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself rather than Thor.

His denial only spurs Thor on, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ve watched you die! I saw your last breath leave your lungs as Thanos dropped your lifeless corpse at my feet. I cried against your stilled chest—”

“_ That was not me! _ ” he protests once more, now with a deranged fervor, spit flying from his bared teeth. He plants his hands on Thor’s chest, unbalancing the great oaf enough to shove him away. “What will it take for you to understand, you moron?! None of that has happened to my life! I do not consider myself any of those things and I am _ not _the Loki you knew.”

Tears cling to Thor’s lashes, threatening to fall at any moment. “I know that… But I _ need _ you to know the type of man you became in this life. You were still _ you _ : the God of Mischief, a trickster, cruel at times, but self-preserving over anything else… but alongside that we became more than just allies of circumstance. We fought alongside each other, we stood for Asgard together... We were brothers. We… we were friends,” His gaze falls to the floor, a few fat tears going with it. No longer sniveling and pitiful, his tears are now shed wearily, but not without purpose. “You are your own proof that you’re capable of change, brother. I know it’s only my word, but I’ve never lied to you, not once. I know you’re not him… but you _ could be _.”

In a rare instance of sincerity that only Thor seems to have ever been able to elicit from him, Loki lets his mask fall to the wayside. Thor’s plea hits him somewhere deep in his chest, an annoying and familiar needling that pierced his heart and slowly siphoned out the small reserve of compassion he held. “I… I _ can’t _.” He’s horrified by the way his voice cracks, betraying him like so many have before. Pins prick at the edges of his eyes and he feels the telltale lift of his soft palate; A long since closed dam opening for the first time.

Thor reaches out for a hug, deciding against it despite Loki’s unmoving form. He steps away, walking to the exterior wall that gazes out over the meadow. The sun is just beginning to set, the lake beyond them reflecting the colors of the sky, darkening with shades of dusk’s prologue. “You told me the sun would shine on us again… I stopped believing that would be true, and yet here you are, keeping your promise,” A smile cracks through his abject disposition. “You never could stay dead.”

Surprising even himself, Loki lets out a course bark of laughter. He takes a few steps forward until he’s standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Thor, delicately resting his hands on the sill in front of them. “Death and I have a complicated rapport… Like everyone else, even she grows tired of my nature and decides to send me away,” a deprecating smirk slips through the cracks as he glances sideways at Thor, seeing his smile returned to him.

“We can’t all be immune to your charms,” Thor says agreeably, but it’s all a facade. Loki can hear the words he wants to say hidden underneath the safe superficiality. _ I would never send you away _.

His mind flashes back to Asgard and the many times they stood like this, as equals staring out their gilded windows at the realm beyond that both of them one day wanted to rule. They both knew the reality of their stations, and yet they kept up the familial rivalry all the same, as if they had a choice.

_ There’s always a choice, Loki. _

_ Get out of my head, Stark. _

A terse silence hangs in the hallway for several minutes, footfalls approaching from the same direction they came in. Loki doesn’t turn until after he hears the voice he’d become all too familiar with over the past weeks. It’s almost as if his thoughts alone summoned the mortal.

“Sorry to interrupt whatever Shakespearean family drama you two have got going on right now, but the gauntlet is almost ready.”

Thor raises his head, not bothering to conceal his considerably lowered spirit. “Have we decided who will be attempting the snap?”

Tony pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Not yet, big guy. We’re going to talk it over in the lab. We’re working on rounding everybody up now.”

Thor nods stiffly and walks towards him, Tony offering a comforting rub on his back as he turns to walk with him, stopping for a moment when he realizes Loki hasn’t moved. His arm falls away, Thor making it a few more steps before he stops as well, looking inquisitively over his shoulder.

“You, uh… You go ahead, Captain Thunderpants. I’m gonna have a quick word with tall, dark, and brooding over there,” he jerks a thumb in Loki’s direction.

Thor’s brow furrows for a moment, glancing between the two of them. The look, fleeting as it is, holds a similar perceptiveness that Natasha’s own gaze had, as if they’re searching for some kind of tangible tether between the two of them that could somehow explain their draw to one another. He gives up on finding an answer with insight alone, nodding to Tony once more before he plods back towards the lab.

Tony approaches him slowly as if he’s trying not to startle a wild animal. “Sorry if I was interrupting some brotherly bonding time.”

Loki rolls his eyes, not moving from his spot in the center of the hallway. “Hardly. Really I should be thanking you for sending the buffoon away.”

Tony shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s changed out of the clothes Loki gifted to him, now in comfortable looking athletic wear that sculpts his body, most likely what he would normally wear beneath the armor. Loki wants to rip it off of him right then and there, but it’s unlikely to go over well while tensions are so high. Perhaps afterwards.

“How are you feeling?” Tony asks.

The question takes him off guard. He’s only been on Earth for less than an hour, and it’s already happened far more than he would like. “I’m fine,” he says slowly. “How’s the Captain?”

Tony attempts to suppress a grin but fails miserably, the sight bringing a smile to Loki’s face as well. “He’s not as bad as you think. He’s just trying to look out for me…” his expression falls. “We’ve been through a lot together. I can’t blame him for reacting the way he did.”

“Yes, and to think if he actually knew the entire story,” Loki drawls, stalking closer to Tony. “It might just stop his heart knowing that his _ precious _ Iron Man allowed himself to be defiled by the insane god.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Jealous,” Loki snorts as if it’s beyond far from the truth. _ Of course I’m jealous _ , he wants to shout. _ Why does he have any right to look at me like I’m utter filth and act as if he’s the only one who could ever claim to have your best interest at heart? _ “Do you plan on telling him or any of your Avengers about our little tryst?” He asks, deflecting.

“Well, Bruce already knows,” Tony sighs in defeat. Loki raises a curious brow when he doesn't elaborate further. “He… Wanted to do an exam. Just to make sure I’m okay after all the…” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “Existing in other planes and using an Infinity Stone stuff. The uh… bite marks and bruises were kind of impossible to write off as anything other than what they are.” His expression turns sour, hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “Thanks for not healing those, you _ dick _.”

Loki raises his eyebrows innocently. “Why, Darling, you never asked. Besides, it doesn’t take a doctor to diagnose the cause of why you’re still limping around like that,” he points out.

“Fuck off,” Tony says tiredly, no real malice there.

There’s a beat of silence, Tony not offering up anything further to his question. Loki supposes he doesn’t have to for him to know the answer: No. Of course he isn’t going to tell his fellow Samaritans that he slept with the enemy. They’d cast him aside and walk away with their opinions of him forever tainted.

“Well, are you coming?” Tony eventually asks. “We’re leaning towards Bruce to be the one to do it. Now that he’s all gamma’d up, he has the best chance at handling the power of all the stones at once. Even then it’s…” he bites his lip. “Iffy.”

“No,” Loki deadpans. “I have very little stake in the outcome of your absurd mission. I’m clearly not wanted here, but I suppose I can linger a bit longer for an opportune moment to reclaim the Space Stone as my own.”

Tony frowns at him, not so much disapprovingly as frustrated. He expects that answer out of Loki, but he doesn’t like it. “We still have the marks you know,” he pulls up his sleeve to put it on display, as if Loki can’t _ feel _ the binding magic burning constantly into the skin of his arm.

“Yes, and what of it?” Loki sniffs.

Tony seems to hesitate for a moment, staring out the window as he mulls over his thoughts. “It makes me think… that something bad is going to happen. I thought once we got back to my timeline, that promise would be fulfilled. After all, you’re here now. Thanos is dead, Thor isn’t going to try and imprison you, and you have all your powers again. What possible threat could there be that I’m supposed to protect you from unless one of those three things isn’t true?”

“Oh, and you’ve narrowed it down to those factors alone?”

Tony sighs through his nose. “You don’t have to pretend, Loki. I know the Pact isn’t some all-encompassing safety net for you. Your mom and I talked about it and we figured out that—”

“When did you speak with my mother without me present?” Loki asks suddenly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tony presses on, tone strained. “The point is, the vow _ should _ be complete. You said _ immediate _ threats to you while you were vulnerable. All of those are gone now, so why is it still here?”

“As if I’m supposed to know the answer,” Loki snipes.

“I thought you knew everything,” Tony mutters.

His contempt is grating. Loki grabs him harshly by the wrist, dragging him forward in a display of dominance. Tony doesn’t flinch, doesn’t fight back or back down. His dark whiskey eyes are aflame with defiance when Loki yanks him closer. Green eyes flicker down to his mouth, lower lip slightly reddened by all the worrying between his teeth.

He forces himself onto the smaller man, their lips locked in a loveless meeting. He feels the predator's thrill surge through him as he captures his prey, dragging Tony against his chest to further ensnare him. Tony kisses him back just as harshly. They clash against one another, Loki unyielding as he lets his teeth grab at Tony's top lip, possessively reclaiming what's rightfully his.

Tony shoves him away harshly, sending him stumbling back a few steps. There’s a sick twist of satisfaction low in his gut as he watches Tony’s fingers brush over his lips, debauched and upset as his fingertips come away with a few drops of scarlet. There’s a slight flush to his tanned skin, the set to his brow conflicted as he glances away from Loki. “We’re not doing that.”

“You want to,” Loki asserts, enjoying the slight hitch in his breathing. He licks Tony's blood from his teeth.

Dark eyes flicker up to his own, obstinate. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, turning away. “I’m going back to the lab. You can come or not, I don’t really care at this point.”

Loki tilts his head to the side, unable to contain a smile. His petulance is almost _ cute _. He does enjoy riling his little mortal up, but now clearly isn’t the best time when the stakes are still so high. “I’ll find you afterwards.”

That seems to throw him, Tony looking back to him with uncertainty. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Loki shrugs, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers to mirror Tony’s usual body language when trying to come across as casual. “It’s whatever you’d like it to be."

Tony stares at him thoughtfully for a long moment before he gives him a curt nod and turns to walk away.

Loki only lets him get halfway down the hall before calling out to him. “Tony.” The man stops on a dime, turning around as if he had been expecting it. Loki regrets it immediately, wanting to force the thought that suddenly bubbled up back to the recess of his mind. He supposes if he doesn’t say it now, he’ll be as cowardly as Thor. He swallows back his doubts, making sure when he speaks, his words ring out clear and confident. “Did you only stay by my side for all this time because you wanted the Stone?”

He’s expecting Tony’s usual, emphatic reaction to the question, but the man’s face remains unchanged. Eyebrows slightly raised, expectant for whatever it was Loki dared to say. His answer is curt and unprepared, wholly genuine. “I did at first... But it hasn’t been like that for a while.”

Loki wants to know how long— needs to be privy to the exact moment something changed in Tony’s heart that made him think Loki was worth all the trouble. He swallows back his curiosities, not wanting to come across as needy. He settles on adequate indifference instead. “Don’t die.”

Tony flashes him a knowing smile, lifting his marked arm slightly as he takes a few backwards steps. “You’ll be the first to know.”

This time when he turns to go, Loki lets him.

He wanders about the compound, staying in the building but aimlessly traversing around the floors, wondering what kind of operation the once rag-tag group was now running that required so many amenities. In the end, it’s not enough to quell his inquiring mind as to what it would be like to witness all six Infinity Stones in use.

Having enough of a mind to not put himself at risk, he conjures a clone and sends him as a witness, falling back into the comfort of splitting his consciousness in two. Loki Prime sinks down onto a comfortable leather sofa in one of the lobbies, staring aimlessly out the window at the campus beyond, while the Other Him makes his way back to the lab.

His charge arrives at the scene just as everyone is suiting up, watching Tony’s armor form around him as he summons a shield to protect himself and Romanoff who stands close behind him. Suspicious heads turn to face him when he approaches, the hulking monster standing in the center of the room with Tony’s created gauntlet in his large hands. So they had decided he would be the herald to reverse Thanos’ will.

Tony’s voice comes from behind the mask with a metallic timbre. “If you’ve come to watch, I’d armor up or get behind something.”

Loki smiles pedantically. “I think I’ll be okay,” he waves a hand through a table as an example, spectral clone crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against a doorway.

“Fine,” Tony sighs. It’s amazing that he can tell he’s rolling his eyes beneath the helmet. “FRIDAY, close the doors.”

“Yes, Boss,” an omniscient female voice rings out. Loki jumps forward slightly as a metal door slides down in the entrance he was standing in, watching as every window and wall is locked down behind Stark security. 

It’s fascinating to watch, something he’ll only admit because he’s at least willing to acknowledge Tony’s capabilities. The gauntlet expands, metal slats shifting and moving to accommodate their wearer, nanomachines carefully cradling all six stones as Banner slips his hand inside. They flash with brilliant light, bolts of energy dancing along the crimson surface and up the Hulk’s arm as he raises it higher, clearly struggling against the energy the stones emit when they’re all together. Loki worries it’s going to overtake him completely, until he watches his middle finger and thumb come together, metal sliding on metal as a resounding snap echoes in the room, and he’s blinded by a flash of light.

His real self raises a hand up on instinct, blinking for a moment as he struggles between his two consciousnesses. He focuses in on the mirage, the light slowly fading to reveal the Hulk on the ground, the gauntlet smoking and kicked off to the side as his allies crowd around them. Tony sprays his suture over the damaged arm, banishing his helmet.

“Stay with me bud, we got this,” he encourages.

Banner blinks, green face contorted in agony. “Did… Did it work?”

The doors to the outside rotate open, daylight filtering through. Despite the sudden flood of warm, golden light, Loki feels a chill. An augural sense of dread spikes like ice through his already cold veins, a feeling he had almost forgotten prickling over his Aesir skin and causing each hair to stand on end. His breath catches in his throat, dismal thoughts suddenly plaguing his mind as he feels darkness claw menacingly at him from the inside out.

“He’s here,” he breathes against his own accord, both sets of eyes completely blank.

“What?” He can hear Tony’s anxious voice coming somewhere from his right, but it sounds distant. Impossibly far. “Loki, what did you say? Who’s here?”

He can’t breathe. He’s drowning. The presence of the Titan now in their midst them strikes fear deep into his core. He’s crying. His tears feel oppressively hot on his cheeks. He’s lost, floating through space once more as he watches the rainbow bridge fade from view, becoming nothing less than a twinkling speck among countless stars in the sky that swallows him whole.

Searing pain blooms from his forearm, snapping Loki back to the present. His vision comes to him in two overlays, one part of him staring out the tall glass windows to where he can see a dark shape hovering in the sky, superimposed over Tony’s distraught face staring up at him, reaching out but unable to touch.

Anthony. The one who knew something terrible was coming, long before him, long before today. A modern day Cassandra, cursed with the burden of prophecies that the undeserving world around him refused to believe.

A comet streaks towards them in slow motion, Loki rising to his feet and summoning his armor out of necessity rather than grandeur.

“Get your helmet on—” is the only warning he manages to gasp out before everything goes black.


	8. No More Tricks

With a definitely fractured skull and an irony tang of blood at the back of his throat, Loki comes back to consciousness. The too hot air is suffocating, each gasp feeling shallower than the last as he attempts to fill his lungs with something other than smoke and dust. A dull ache blossoms across his entire body, fading slowly as the damage begins to repair itself. His thankfully armored chest is being crushed, a persistent but not immediate force. As he grits his teeth and pushes a heavy slab of stone off of him, Loki’s first thoughts are not for himself. His forearm burns. There’s a metaphysical tug from that point that demands he be elsewhere right now.

_ Tony. I have to get to Tony. _

He claws his way through the debris, feeling water spray down on him from above and slick his hair against his scalp as he’s blindly guided by that instinctive feeling, following it through the trenches of churned earth and collapsed building. He skids down the side of a muddy sinkhole, sensing the man’s presence getting closer.

Sound is the first thing to alert Loki to his whereabouts. He pushes aside support beams and twisted metal, stopping for a moment when his heightened ears pick up on something unnatural. It’s barely audible but his understanding of it brings a clarity to the sound that’s impossible to miss even beneath the shifting and groaning of the wreckage. The faint, tinkling, metallic sound of millions of nanites shifting alongside each other coming from his right.

Muck sticks to his leather treads, attempting to suction him down as he forges ahead, shifting through the rubble as that arcane marking burns even hotter. Physical strength beginning to wane, he raises his hands, telekinetically lifting two plates of concrete to find his shining red and gold bounty beneath. He carefully shifts the building away to ensure it won’t come collapsing back down on top of them before he collapses onto his knees next to the man.

“Tony,” he reaches towards the helmet, surprised when the nanobots immediately dissolve away to allow him access, as if Tony’s unconscious response to Loki’s presence is enough. He places a hand against one bleeding cheek, his skin as scalding as ever. A light still shines brightly from his chest, Loki hoping the heart hidden beneath is as resolute. He’s breathing, short and labored, and Loki sees why once he gives a proper once-over. 

He’s been impaled, a thin but not insubstantial rod of metal piercing him through the abdomen, right above his hip. The nanobots flit nervously around that area, trying to patch themselves together and finding it impossible around the two-inch diameter piece of steel in their way.

“You’re so lucky my mother taught me healing magic,” Loki mumbles under his breath before wrapping his arms around the unconscious mortal. His armor clad form is deceptively light as he slowly lifts him straight up and off the rod. He hears a weak groan, but Tony is still unconscious when the shaft of metal comes free, stained red with his blood. He presses his hands into the openings of armor on either side of him before the nanomachines can stitch it shut, closing his eyes and pouring his energy into repairing whatever damage the unfortunately placed debris had caused. No internal organs seem to be damaged, Loki feeling only a small amount of his mana sapped into the process of reforming muscle and skin.

As soon as the wound is healed, Loki places a hand on his forehead to kickstart his consciousness. The man jolts upwards with a gasp, eyes wild and confused at being so suddenly pulled back to the surface. Loki pulls his hands away as if he’s been burned, ignoring that initial instinct to keep them to himself in favor of immediately cupping Tony’s face. “Loki,” he gasps, frantic eyes becoming focused in an instinct. “You said—”

“Yes, Thanos. He’s here,” Loki confirms. “I don’t know how, but he is. We need to go.”

“Go?” Tony echoes faintly. He shakes his head and gets to his feet, clutching Loki’s arm as he rises alongside him. “We can’t go, Loki. This is it. We have to finish this once and for all.”

Anger flashes through him. “_ Tony— _”

Tony ignores him, raising a hand to his ear. “Friday, scan for all life forms in the vicinity. Hey, anybody up? Come in, anybody!”

The same slightly robotic voice from before comes out of his armor. “I can’t get a clear signal, Boss, the compound is too destroyed— Wait, I— I’ve got a read. Captain Rogers is above us and about fifty yards north.”

“Got it,” Tony looks back at him, jaw set in a stubborn line. “You can run away if you want, Loki, but I’m not coming with you.”

The way Tony stares at him makes him feel _ disgraced _, as if he should be ashamed for even thinking of committing such a selfish act. “You will die if you do this,” he says with absolute certainty, knowing the warning will do no good. Tony’s never cared about dying if it meant saving the world. It’s absolutely abhorrent.

“Only if he kills me,” Tony shrugs grimly before his helmet forms around his face, mask slamming shut.

Loki doesn’t flinch when he rockets upwards, threading himself through the still-moving rubble to follow his AI’s direction. To go after _ Captain Rogers _. Humiliation and anger wash over him, left standing alone in the wake of disaster like some weak-willed fool who isn’t even worth a moment of Tony’s hesitation.

Rebelling against his own preservation, he clambers up the wreckage and follows after Tony’s carved out path. He’ll later rationalize this by the idea that he will not stand to be disrespected by some annoyingly brilliant mortal with a loud mouth and an even louder death wish. He’s certainly not doing it out of the goodness of his heart.

He can hear Tony’s voice calling out for Rogers over the rushing water, Loki easily catching up with his inhuman speed and agility, able to easily navigate through the ruined laboratory. Something flashes in the corner of his eye. There, buried in mud, the shiny and smooth edge of a patriotically painted discus peeks out at him, the glint of light across the surface practically taunting him. He sighs.

“Come on, up— _ Up _, Steve! You expect me to lift all your muscle myself?— Atta boy, there’s my man.”

“Tony… Hng, what…”

“I don’t know, but we gotta move, buddy. C’mon, hup two.”

“You might be needing this,” Loki calls out as he approaches them from behind, dangling the shield from his hand by the leather strap.

Rogers’ confusion immediately shifts into outrage beneath his helmet, taking a threatening step forward. “Don’t touch that—!”

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is _ thank you _,” Loki drawls, holding the shield out with indifference. 

Tony plays middle man, one hand planted firmly on Rogers’ chest while the other takes the shield from Loki, passing it along. “You gotta stop losing this. Next time, I’m keeping it.”

Steve glares wearily and pushes his arm through the straps, turning his gaze back on Loki. “You caused this, didn’t you. You brought him from your timeline to sabotage us—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony interjects. “Loki and I were together the entire time. I think I’d know if he was conspiring against us. You mess with time, it tends to mess back. He had nothing to do with this”

Loki’s heart swells with something. Pride? Righteousness? The immature urge to stick his tongue out and waggle his fingers by his head towards Rogers behind Tony’s back? Either way, he lets his smirk spread, pleased by the fact that Tony has chosen his side.

“Besides,” Tony takes a step towards Loki. “He’s going to fight with us.”

“I’m going to what?” Loki asks flatly.

Tony turns a pleading gaze his way. “We could use all the help we can get. And you _ know _ him.”

The man’s assumption makes him bristle. “I have no desire in seeing Thanos again let alone going toe-to-toe with the monster. I’ve heard the last time that happened, it didn’t go so well for me.”

“This time will be different. You didn’t have me,” Tony says fiercely before looking back at Rogers. “You didn’t have us.”

The captain’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t say anything else. He suddenly lifts a hand to his ear, Tony reflexively doing the same. Loki can barely pick up on a faint voice coming from their ear pieces. “What’s he doing?” Rogers demands, hostility fading into his usual authoritative nature.

“Nothing?” Tony repeats in confusion after the answer comes, the two of them trading glances. “Sit tight, Thor. We’re on our way.”

“Do not engage,” Rogers orders before nodding towards the assumed way out of the destroyed building.

Tony hesitates, glancing sideways at Loki. “You want a crack at him too after everything he’s done. Admit it.”

_ Clever thing _ , Loki thinks at the attempt to appeal to his ego. He ignores the swell of fear that roils in his gut at the idea of facing that _ monster _ again. “I’ll leave the avenging to you.”

Tony’s eyebrows twitch upwards, pleading with just his eyes for a long moment before Rogers clears his throat behind him. “Suit yourself,” Tony decides before opening his palm, something small forming there that gets tossed his way. “But if you change your mind, you’ll want that.”

Loki catches it easily, hand closing around it and not opening again until after Steve and Tony have jetted off to rendezvous with wherever his brother may be. He turns his palm upwards, uncurling his fingers to reveal the tiny communication device sitting there, small enough to fit right into his ear.

He wants to throw the thing down into the sinkholes still forming around him, let it get lost in the churned earth and pooling water, reject Tony’s foolhearty notion that he’d ever be willing to team up with the people who thwarted him before. It’s _ their _ fault he has any reason to fear the Mad Titan in the first place.

_ What better way to redeem yourself than by uniting against a common enemy? _ A pestering voice that sounds too much like Tony niggles at the back of his brain.

“I don’t need redemption,” he mutters aloud, an affirmation for no one but himself. He sighs and tucks his hair behind his right ear, nestling the small device into the canal until it feels comfortably in place.

_ But I could do with a little revenge. _

Like a resurrected dead man crawling forth from a grave, Loki clambers out of the pit, feeling warm dirt cling to the underside of his fingernails as he pulls himself up. He takes a more roundabout way than he had seen Rogers and Tony disappear through, not wanting to expose himself too early in the fight. He isn’t like Thor, he can’t just go charging into battle while swinging a blunt object overhead, declaring himself a target for any enemy who dare get in his way. He fights smarter than that, stealthier than that. He sticks to the shadows, pinpoints chinks in the armor and other observable weaknesses. Even if he can’t take as many hits as his once-brother, he’s resilient enough to handle the few that he’s not quick enough to dodge.

He hears thunder rolling, the dark clouds above now visible as he breaches the surface. They sky that had been streaked with brilliant colors moments ago is now a dark grey, ash and embers fluttering through the atmosphere as plumes of smoke rise up from the devastation around them. The air is charged with electricity, Loki feeling the hairs raise on the back of his neck, a biological caution that there’s a nearby god wielding otherworldly powers. Loki has always wondered if he has anything equivalent to it as a trickster and a Frost Giant— perhaps an indescribable chill whenever he looms in a nearby shadow, or a twinge of alarm right before his blade sinks into its mark.

He casts a glamour over himself and peeks around the rubble, jaw dropping at the sight that greets him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he breathes, not caring if the rest of the comm-wearers hear.

It’s not Thor wielding the storms above, but goddamn _ Steve Rogers _. The Captain swings the hammer around like he was born to do so, Loki finding it impossible to not be impressed by the way he utilizes both Mjölnir and his shield, fighting with both offensive and defensive tactics in tandem with one another. He poses an actual threat against Thanos who is barely able to keep up with the quick succession of attacks.

He’s so momentarily distracted by the impossible display that he realizes, belated, that Tony is nowhere to be seen. His head snaps around, eyes scanning the field for any familiar glint of crimson armor and finding none. He closes his eyes for a moment and rubs a hand over the mark on his arm, letting the rest of the world fall away from his senses as he hones in on the magic that binds them together. 

No matter how ancient or powerful, all magic leaves a trace, and Loki has made it his objective over the past few centuries to learn how to track it. He follows the ethereal pull around piles of disturbed earth and former buildings hating the way his heart picks up as soon as Tony comes into view. He’s nothing more than a crumpled heap, unmoving and face-down in the blackened earth.

Loki crouches above him once more, dropping the glamour once he’s sure the pile of former they’re blocked from Thanos’ view. He rolls the genius onto his back and slaps the helmet a few times, probably harder than necessary. “I’m getting really tired of finding you like this,” he grumbles in annoyance, refusing to let any relief show when the man’s head suddenly jerks back up, emitting a muffled cough.

Tony calls his armor back to expose his head, blood dripping from one temple and the corner of his mouth. His eyes are wild, pupils dilated as his attention snaps to Loki above him. “You stayed,” he whispers, clearly still in a daze from what was probably a brutal blow from the Wannabe King considering how far he landed from the action.

“Someone with occasional wisdom once told me that I had a choice,” he stands and holds a hand out to Tony. “This is me making it.”

The way Tony grins up at him makes Loki think the last blow to the head has made him delirious. “Aw, you think I’m wise?”

“I did say _ occasional _ ,” Loki rolls his eyes as they clasp arms and he hauls him to his feet. They stand close like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. _ Now’s not the time _, Loki thinks as he watches Tony lean closer to him, tilting his head up.

Against his better judgement, he leans in as well. There’s a sudden crackling in the comms that causes both of them to hesitate, turning back towards the direction of the fight.

“_ —Cap, it’s Sam— Can you hear me?— On your left.” _

One after another, sparkling orange circles appear out of thin air, portals to locations not only across Midgard, but throughout the entire galaxy. Figures emerge, individuals and small groups at first, but soon the portals expand, larger and larger in size until entire armies are beginning to pour out of them, all lining up across the battlefield of ruin.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

Tony has left his side before he can even see where he’s gone, leaving him to be caught in the fray of battle as the two sides of a war clash together. Loki teleports himself in short bursts, aiming to stay as far from the thick of combat as possible. While he may not know all of the Avengers’ new allies, he recognizes Thanos’ army. His Black Order, Outriders, Leviathans, Sakaarans, Chitauri… all of them pour onto the battlefield as his numerous warships touch down, sending shockwaves through the earth, destroying it even more. He gets to higher ground to avoid being trampled in the fray, while also watching for the attacks raining down from above.

Adrenaline pumps through his icy veins in a way it hasn’t in quite some time as he summons daggers and short blades to his hands, taking out enemies at a long range with expert precision. As a few soldiers break away from their troves and make him their target, he summons dozens of duplicates and sends them into the chaos long enough to distract and disorient so he can stealthily attack from behind. He may not be a “_ proper warrior” _ by Asgardian standards, but he knows how to assassinate.

Narrowly avoiding being crushed underfoot by the Goliath (who is evidently on their side, judging by the Leviathans he’s sending crashing into the ground), Loki surmises that the ground is not the most optimal location for him to be located. He searches the sky, catching a glimpse of what he thinks is Tony firing beams of repulsion energy from the floating turrets on his back, but the suit is blue instead of red and sleeker in its design.

While fighting through a wave of Chitauri alongside dark-skinned warriors in colorful garb, Loki focuses on the overlapping voices cutting in and out in his ear. He vaguely registers the discussions happening amongst his provisional allies, something about a van and the gauntlet. He focuses in on anyone who might be calling out Tony’s name, or to hear the man’s voice himself to garner some kind of reference so he can pinpoint his location amidst the bedlam. He’ll never be able to track him down while being swarmed by these savages, even with the assistance from the Midgardians surrounding him.

Hacking and slicing his way through an alien army that had once belonged to him, he sees the reinforcements swooping down to perform an air strike from above. As soon as his immediate space is clear, he crouches low and jumps high in the air with inhuman strength, grabbing onto the bottom of one of the aircrafts as soon as it dips low enough. He swings himself up, kicking the rider off and quickly taking their place, gaining control of the one-man ship. He’s familiar with the controls, having piloted them back in the assault on New York. He feels the irony prickling over his skin as he white-knuckles the steering mechanism and fires the blasters directly into other Chitauri pilots, watching their ships tailspin in a plume of purple smoke.

With the better vantage point in the sky, he’s able to spot Tony streaking through the air, landing next to a group of the wielders of the Mystic Arts. Loki hears the conversation in his ear piece as he shoots towards them, barrel rolling the ship from side to side when he’s fired at by his pursuers that are quickly taken out from the sorcerers below.

_ “—Tell me this is it!” _

_ “If I tell you what happens, it won’t happen.” _

_ “You better be right.” _

Rather than slow the ship down to a stop, Loki releases the accelerator and jumps off when he’s close enough to the ground, landing in a crouched position while the ship continues it’s path behind him, crashing into a swarm of Sakaarans with a brilliant explosion. Both Tony and the sorcerer whirl around in surprise.

“Don’t you _ ever _ disappear like that again,” Loki scolds, brushing some dirt off his cloak as he strides forward.

Tony’s lips quirk into an amazed grin, even as he’s talked down to. “Seems like you’re handling yourself pretty well.”

There’s a horrendous cry from their right, an Outrider launching itself over a pile of rubble with its elongated claws outstretched towards Tony. Before he or the other sorcerer can act, a dagger has sunk right between the beast’s eyes, collapsing it to the ground with a choked off cry of pain. 

Tony turns his widened eyes on Loki, “Alright, handling yourself _ really _ well.”

“Yes, well, I’d have an easier time navigating all this pandemonium if I didn’t have you to worry about!”

“Hey, I can take care of myself just fine!”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing—”

“If you two could save the lovers’ quarrel for when there isn’t a battle going on, that would be great!” The sorcerer calls out to them as he takes out another wave of aliens with a sweeping motion of his arms, orange magic flickering like bracers along his wrists.

“Duck!” Tony suddenly shouts, Loki immediately dropping to the ground without even giving it a second thought. He throws up a shield as Tony flies above him and fires a stream of rockets from his wrist, his projectiles colliding into the shots fired from the ships above, dissipating them in bursts of light and energy. Tony lands next to him, grinning again. “Now we’re even.”

“Not quite,” Loki throws up a barrier around them, a swirling mass of shimmering energy like a green tornado as a resurgence of Chitauri come sprinting at them. As they fire their blasters towards them, his shield deflects the bolts, absorbing the energy before it’s fired right back in the direction it came from, exploding into the horde, Chitauran body parts and dirt flying everywhere.

Tony stands back to back with Loki as he keeps up the deflection wall, cannons unfolding from the back of his armor. Their power is amplified as it passes through his magic, Tony firing off several beams of energy to clear out the current wave of enemies. “Nice one, Strange!” Tony calls out in the mayhem, Loki watching as several Sakaaran Necrocrafts from above are grounded, locked in by eldritch forces pulling them straight out of the sky.

Loki drops the barrier once the immediate area is clear, panting slightly as he turns to Tony. “I do have to say, I appreciate seeing I’m not the only magic-user here.” 

Too often he’s been the only mage amongst warriors while on the battlefield. Despite the fact that he possessed the limitless power of the arcane at his fingertips, his abilities were seen as weak just because he couldn’t wield a claymore or a warhammer. Loki watches Strange’s casting with interest, not yet willing to admit he’s impressed but sure his expression gives him away

The sorcerer smirks, nodding towards something over Loki’s shoulder. “We’re not the only ones.”

The smoke around them clears, Loki seeing Thanos’ formidable figure in the distance going head to head with a petite figure hurling blasts of vermillion magic from her hands. She flies up into the air, commanding masses of debris and earth around her to follow before crashing down towards Thanos’ like meteors striking him down. Even Loki knows that’s not enough to stop him, but the sheer power she radiates is astonishing as she keeps the titan at bay.

“I gotta assist in the very fun, hot potato game of keep-away,” Tony tells him, drawing his attention away from her for just a moment as he hovers a few feet in the air. He points back towards her. “Wanda? She’s one of the best of us. Stick with her. Protect her if anything goes sideways.”

“I don’t think she needs protection,” Loki mutters under his breath.

“Probably not, but we have each other’s backs out here, and right now, nobody’s got hers,” his helmet closes back around his face right before he rockets off, voice still coming through to Loki’s comms. “Stay sharp, Kid, I’m coming to you!”

Loki moves across the battlefield in a streak of green and black, getting closer to the duel while also being sure to keep himself hidden from Thanos. Then again, he doesn’t have to try very hard considering he’s currently occupied by an enraged witch bearing down on him. He fully expects to need to intervene before she can be cut down by the massive, double-edged halberd, but she ends up being the one to overpower the Mad Titan, breaking the sword in two and sending the split pieces off in separate directions.

Disarmed and vulnerable, Thanos is overwhelmed by the woman’s merciless will, forced up into the air as he’s engulfed by her telekinetic energy. She clearly needs no help from Loki as she slowly picks his armor apart, cruelly bending him to her will. He recognizes that enraged fury in her glowing eyes— He sees _ himself _ in her, knowing a similar intensity has been present in his own gaze whenever he bore down on someone who had wronged him. This isn’t a hero getting the best of a villain. There is no triumph on her face, expression twisted with the intent to torture, to kill, to force her prey to feel the same helplessness she once felt. This is _ personal _. 

He’s also well aware of how easy it is to let tunnel-vision take over when one’s target is finally in their clutches. While the area is cleared out of the army fodder, Loki feels the ground beneath him rumble as twisting pillars of earth start to rise up, arcing towards Wanda in dangerous spirals. He recognizes the attack, immediately shrouding himself as he steps into the open to find the source of it. Ebony Maw. One of Thanos’ _ children _. He levitates several yards out but is floating closer, gnarled hands twisting as he manipulates the rubble into dangerous weapons aimed directly at the greatest threat on the field.

_ We have each other’s backs out here, and right now, nobody’s got hers. _

Loki raises his hands in the air and clenches his hands into fists, destroying the dangerous arcing pillars before they can attempt to smash into Wanda. Debris and earth flies everywhere, Loki continuing to break apart projectile after projectile to defend her. He can see Maw’s confusion in the distance, quickly turning to rage as he scans the field below and can’t find a source of the inconvenience. Feeling particularly spiteful in remembering all of the condescending remarks from this Black Order member back when he considered them allies, Loki conjures several clones of Ebony Maw, having them run across the field and continue to disperse his attempts to stop her.

He sees the realization hit his hideous face, wrinkles deepening as the caster lets out an enraged yell, floating higher into the air. “_ Loki _!” He screeches across the battlefield. “Come out from hiding, you insufferable bastard!”

His delight in mischief falters when he’s called out, gaze cutting over to Thanos in case Maw’s outcry reached his ears. There doesn’t appear to be any change as Thanos’ face contorts in pain, body being pushed to the limits as Wanda peels him apart like an ugly, purple onion. “_ Rain… Fire..! _ ” He growls out, voice rumbling as loudly as the distant thunder. “ _ Just do it! _”

Loki barely as time to sprint towards Wanda, crashing into her side as he throws up a protective shield above them to block the barrage coming from the _ Sanctuary II _above. She grunts against him as they hit the ground, Loki quickly teleporting them to cover, keeping the shield up all the while as hellfire rains down.

“I nearly had him!” She yells over the destruction, hands coming up to protectively hold her head as she tries to squint through the kicked up earth as crater after crater is blown into it.

“And that’s exactly why he’s doing this!” Loki shouts back, squinting up above them. A streak of blue-white energy barrels straight for the building remains they’re crouched behind, Loki grabbing her arm and teleporting them out of the way just in time. 

There’s a fermata in the bombardment, the cannons above recharging before the next volley. Frenzied Outriders come pouring out of the nearest crater, Loki and Wanda both dodging out of their path. Most of them are missing limbs or are otherwise maimed, blindly running in any direction that is away from the onslaught. Loki is knocked to the ground by a Chitauran gorilla and is quickly overwhelmed by the stampede, vaguely aware of Wanda yelling out as she attempts to divert the wild creatures elsewhere.

Loki brings his hands up as one of the mangled creatures bears down on him, claws sinking into the armor around his shoulders as it roars in his face, the stench of blood and rotting meat spraying over him as saliva drips from its fangs. The monster is twice his size, effectively pinning him to the earth before rising up on his haunches to take a kill strike. Loki brings up his arms to block it from taking a bite out of him, flinching as he’s suddenly coated in a warm, wet spray.

One half of his body falls limply to the side of Loki, the back half slumping down on top of him as it’s darkly colored innards leak out from where it’s been effectively sliced through. The swarm of creatures turns their attention towards the final death cry of their fallen comrade, Loki shoving the halved corpse off of him just in time to see a flash of white, angelic wings flapping above him as an equestrian beast lands beside him, effectively crushing another one of the Outriders beneath it’s hooves.

“Lackey!” The divine creature’s rider calls out to him. “Thought you were dead!”

“A common misconception,” he replies, wiping disgusting green sludge from his brow as he gets to his feet. He takes in the practically glowing winged animal, only knowing one type of warrior to mount them. Hair pulled back from her face in thick braids, donning white and blue armor, holding a shining Asgardian glaive in one hand that’s still dripping with Outrider blood… “You’re a Valkyrie,” he realizes aloud. “I thought your kind was wiped out.”

Her dark eyes narrow, lip twitching into a snarl. “Did you hit your head?” She rolls her eyes and pulls on the reigns of her Pegasus, turning on a dime so she can reach out for him. “Just hop on, Princess. Let’s see how good you are with those knives while airborne.”

There’s no time to weigh his options when there’s a war going on. The Witch certainly doesn’t waste time like him, immediately jetting off into the air on a current of her swirling, crimson magic. He scoops a Sakaaran spear blaster off the ground and narrowly dodges a projectile that whizzes right by his ear and explodes somewhere several feet away. The Pegasus rears up impatiently and he has no choice but to grasp onto the proffered arm, letting the woman hoist him up onto the equine’s back.

The air is as chaotic as the ground, the raining fire from the collosal warship above causing for a rough flight as the Pegasus avoids the blasts. Leviathans are streaming out of the sky, lit up by friendly fire and crashing into the ground to add more devastation as plenty soldiers on both sides are crushed underneath. Loki does his best to not be dislodged, one hand holding firm to the back of the Valkyrie’s cloak while he balances the spear in his other hand, firing at any target he can keep his eye on for more than a millisecond before they go careening off to the side to avoid another blast.

_ “I’ve got you kid— Who’s open?” _ Loki hears in his ear.

“Us on the flying horse!” Valkyrie calls out, pulling on the rains to slow long enough for the same Not Iron Man he had seen earlier to whizz by, a figure in a shining red and blue suit hurtling end over end before landing on the back of the Pegasus. Despite his clumsiness in the air, he lands with perfect form, the multiple golden legs sticking out of his back helping balance him. Loki immediately recognizes the tech as Tony’s, even if the suit looks radically different than he would expect from another Ironling.

The voice that comes from the new ally is young and juvenile sounding, the eyes on the outside of the mask widening as he leans into Loki’s space. “Whoa, those horns are so cool! Are they heavy? How do you keep your head up? Oh! I’m Peter by the wa— _ aaaaaaahohmygod _!” His babbling descends into a rising scream of terror as the Pegasus goes into a nosedive. He watches as this Peter tyke shoots something out from his wrist, the projectile attaching to Loki’s cape. There’s a sharp tug, the thin looking strands deceptively strong as they somehow don’t break despite the tension of Peter flapping around on the other end of it as Loki does everything he can to not go flying off himself.

Suddenly, Loki is engulfed with heat, suddenly blinded as a blast streaks too close to comfort. He hears the pained neigh of the Pegasus before his eardrums feel like they burst, now losing the last of his senses as he feels himself separate from the Valkyrie and her ride, weightless, blind, and deaf.

He blacks out, feeling himself hit the ground with a sickening thud, pain radiating through his entire form as he struggles to stay conscious. He’s disoriented and broken, body not responding to his commands as he attempts to pull himself away from the brink of death. Things around him seem to move in slow motion, a single voice cutting through the high pitched ringing in his ears.

_ “Where are they? Does anyone have eyes? Come in, Kid. Loki? Loki, are you up? Pete, can you hear me— Somebody come in!” _

He can’t be sure how long he’s out, feeling like he’s drifting through a dreamscape that mirrors the war and destruction playing out around him. Light bursts against the shadows above him, the distant sound of explosions rumbling in his ears. He can hear his own breathing, stilted but present. More voices in his ear, but none of them matter. He feels his flight or flight biological responses kicking into hyperdrive now, working overtime to try and heal the damage that came from such a powerful blast hitting them almost directly.

Refusing to be just another dead soldier in a graveyard full of martyrs, Loki hauls himself to his feet. His body trembles with the effort, vision doubling as he stares down at his hands caked in blood and dirt. _ Get up _ , his mind screams. _ Get up! You will not die out here! _

Loki stumbles forward, bracing himself against the ruined buildings and climbing over corpses of both enemies and allies alike. He’s seen far worse throughout his centuries of existence, but this is the first war in which he has stakes. Well, one stake in particular.

_ What did I tell you? _Loki thinks in utter annoyance as he crests to the top of the hill, watching as Thanos knocks Tony several feet away, his limp body rolling across the ground like a rag doll whose owner no longer wants to play with it.

There’s no time to go to him, as desperate as Loki is to warp over and drag him away from an impossible fight. Tony would kick and scream against him the entire time. He would never forgive Loki for getting in the way. 

He watches as a glowing figure rockets towards the unstoppable Titan, a Nike-like goddess of brilliance and ferocity clearly outclassing him in combat. Any attempts to attack her are futile, Loki’s eyes widening as he watches the duel. While he’s sure such an individual could exist somewhere amongst the cosmos, he’s never witnessed an adversary who could possibly stand against Thanos’ fortitude. He idly wonders if the wannabe God has ever been brought to his knees, the woman making it look _ easy _. She seizes him in a chokehold, keeping the gauntlet just out of reach. He strains against her all the same, arm extending just enough for his fingers to catch the edge of the power stone.

He sees the shock of realization on the goddess’ face the moment before the strike comes. Fist burning with purple energy, Thanos bears the strength of the Power Stone and knocks the woman free of him, her body flying hundreds of yards away and crashing into a building that proceeds to collapse on top of her, snuffing out her light.

He returns the power stone to its rightful place amongst its siblings and is inches away from slipping his hand inside when he’s stricken on the arm. The culprit is none other than his foolish brother wielding an axe he’s never seen before, crackling with the same lightning that envelops his form. His eyes are aglow with a power Loki hasn't witnessed him to have in all their years. Outward appearances aside, this is the strongest Thor has ever been. Loki doesn’t need to comb through the index of his tragedies in the past eleven years to know that. 

The Captain throws himself into the fray as well, latching onto Thanos’ back and assisting Thor in pressing the head of the axe closer and closer to his neck, the two of them together almost enough to overpower him. 

The gauntlet lays at his feet: a window of opportunity. It’s the same rapidly closing window he glimpsed when he had been in Thor’s custody back in New York, chained like any other prisoner awaiting his trial in the gilded court. They had been trying to get it somewhere. Loki’s magic isn’t powerful enough to banish the thing to a pocket dimension, the raw power the Stones give off impossible to try and manipulate in such a way. If only it were that simple.

He summons the coveted object to his hands and disappears in a blink.

Thor and Rogers are knocked to the wayside, out cold despite their efforts. Thanos whirls around, searching the ground for the now missing gauntlet, wondering if he’s been blinded in his outrage and is somehow overlooking the treasure that had been at his feet moments before.

“Thanos!” Loki’s voice rings confidently across the battlefield as he steps into view, tattered cape billowing behind him. He clutches a long spear in one hand, the other holding the gauntlet. “Looking for something?”

His hysterics taper for only a moment as his eyes fall upon Loki. Those eyes. Soulless pits in his oversized skull. Loki stands his ground, refusing to shrivel despite the chill that caresses down his spine like an old lover.

“Loki!” He calls out with familiarity, holding his arms out as if greeting an old friend. “I was wondering where you had run off to! Too scared to face me after your egregious failure?”

_ I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of you. _

Thanos walks towards him in large strides, taking his time. “To think that I so kindly gifted you the Mind Stone and the opportunity to conquer Earth for your own. If you hand the Stones over to me, I might just decide to let you have what’s left of it,” he rumbles threateningly.

As Thanos gets closer, Loki backs up, clutching the gauntlet to his chest with wide eyes. “Oh, you think this is meant for you?”

Thanos’ step falters for a moment. “You would dare double-cross me?”

“Double-crossing would imply I was ever on your side to begin with.”

He’s close enough to see the enraged whites of Thanos’ eyes. He doesn’t flinch as Thanos lunges for him… and passes right through his mirror image.

The titan lets out an enraged cry, slamming his fists into the ground where Loki’s illusion had once stood. “COME OUT, COWARD PRINCE!” He yells into the open air, spinning around dangerously and scanning the field for any signs of him.

“You want me?” Loki shouts at his back, stepping out from behind a crashed spaceship.

Another image of him appears on the opposite end of the clearing. “Come and find me!”

The area is suddenly filled with hundreds of clones, all of them tauntingly holding the gauntlet as they dart and dodge around Thanos who begins to charge through them like an enraged bull. Loki is able to materialize them enough just to be troublesome, swiping their spears across the back of his legs or his arms, a nick here, a slice there. It’s not enough to do substantial damage, but judging by the surmounting anger contorting the titan’s face, Loki is doing his job.

“Enough of these games!” Thanos roars as he swipes a fist through another projection. “_ MAW! Take care of this nuisance! _”

There’s a thunderous clap right around Loki’s ears, causing him to cry out in pain and drop to his knees, hands going up to cradle his head that's still resonating like a bell. The interruption is debilitating, all of his concentration and mana being sapped away because of the other warlock’s doing. His copies, his scapegoats, they fade away in an instant, revealing his true location.

In the time it takes him to recover, Thanos is already running at him. He raises up his spear just in time to block the first blow, rolling to the side and dodging out of the way of the giant’s swinging fists. He’s seen Thanos brawl enough to have a slight advantage on him, recognizing his fight patterns even when unarmed. His movements are quick and feline, Loki easily darting from side to side, making quick slashes and stabs with his staff. Not every thrust hits its mark, Thanos still a formidable foe. While Loki knows how to fight _ smarter _, it doesn’t necessarily make him superior against the brute’s strength. His staff is broken in two and he immediately casts the weapon aside, no love lost as he summons dual scimitars to his hands and brings them up in an X to block the next strike.

He bears down on Loki with both fists, forcing the trickster god’s arms to tremble beneath his weight. “I do admire your conviction, Laufeyson. But to think I ever thought you worthy of joining my Black Order… Well,” he chuckles darkly. “You’ve never been worthy of anything, have you?”

He finds the strength to thrust the swords upwards, moving in the opposite direction to get out from under his weight. This causes the titan to lose his balance long enough for him to cut deep into the spaces his perceptive eyes find in his armor, purple blood coating the curved swords as he goes for a devastating blow to the nape of his neck.

He’s grabbed by the ankle suddenly, flung forward and slammed into the ground by a quick motion he hadn’t seen coming. The wind is knocked out of him, Loki grabbing a fistful of dirt and throwing it into Thanos’ eyes. It does little more than piss off an already angry opponent, Loki dropping his swords as he’s hoisted into the air by one ankle, Thanos shaking him vigorously. He rights Loki by instead grabbing him around the throat, large fingers quickly closing around his air supply. All it would take is a flick of one muscle, and his neck is snapped. A sense of deja vu strikes him painfully, knowing this is exactly how he met his demise last time.

Luckily, he never makes the same mistake twice.

One free hand is all he needs to summon a serrated dagger to it, spinning it in his hand and flicking it upward to sink right into the tendon of Thanos’ wrist. He growls out in pain as Loki mercilessly digs the blade deeper into his flesh, muscle spasms forcing his hand open enough to allow him to slip free.

He jumps back as Thanos’ fist whiffs through the air, calling forth more clones as nothing more than a distraction so he can get his bearings back. He catches Tony’s gaze across the way, the man evidently conscious again and waiting in the wings for an opportunity to help. He can see the fear in his eyes. He flashes him a glance. _ There’s no need to look like that; I have no plans on sacrificing myself for your cause today. _

Thanos lurches towards him once more, Loki hearing the familiar resonance of Mjölnir before he sees it. The hammer cracks into the side of his skull, sending the gargantuan stumbling to one side. Thor comes flying into the picture, meeting his returning hammer half-way as he lands beside Loki, twirling it along with his new axe in one hand.

“About time you got off your lazy ass,” Loki sniffs, summoning more knives to his hands.

“Couldn’t let you do this alone, now could I?” Thor counters with a grin, eyes crackling with electricity.

He and Thor fight side-by-side, brothers-in-arms in more ways than one. They move like liquid together, a practiced dance they’ve had millennia to perfect. Opposites in their fighting styles but equal in the way they augment one another. They’re a formidable duo, something Loki loathes to acknowledge in most scenarios. As they fight their greatest threat together, a quick smile is shared between them. Suddenly, they’re children again, playing Sword Fight in the gardens with their harmless, wooden imitations, Frigga and Odin looking down at them from the veranda with fond eyes.

But like so many challengers before them, it’s not enough. Loki is distracted when he sees Thor’s legs swept out from under him, Thanos bringing a heavy foot down directly onto his chest. His momentary lapse is enough for Thanos to seize him by the back of his armor and fling him as hard and as far as he can away from their scrap.

His helmet is knocked free as he flies through the air, body hitting the ground and rolling across the earth. There’s that deja vu again as he cracks his eyes open, body aching all over as he looks up to see a Midgardian in a metal suit of armor standing over him. This time, instead of grabbing him to further drag him through the trenches, he reaches out to haul him to his feet.

“Loki, the gauntlet,” he demands seriously.

“I have it,” he grunts, lifting his cape so Tony can see the regular-sized gauntlet strapped into his armor. “But I won’t have it for much longer if Thanos can help it. We need to get The Stones away from here.”

“I know, but that isn’t an option anymore, he destroyed the only exit chute. I need you to give it to me.”

“Are you _ mad _?” Loki splutters rhetorically. “You don’t mean to use them!”

“I have to, Loki. It’s the only way,” Tony says it with such grim certainty that even Loki believes him.

“You’ll die!”

“If I don’t do this, we all die!” Tony argues. “We’re out of time, just give me the damn Stones!”

Loki pulls the gauntlet free, keeping the death sentence clenched in his hands for a moment longer. _ We all die _ . He raises a hand to his ear. “Everyone on Stark _ now _. As fast as you can.”

Tony’s eyes widen in realization, their minds, as always, working in sync. The responses in their ears are discordant, a majority of them still caught up in their own conflicts away from _ The _ Conflict. “Do as he said!” Tony snaps over the voices, looking off somewhere over his shoulder. “Strange, get those portals ready.” He turns back to Loki, expression a mixture of nerves and hope. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“It better,” Loki growls.

In the few seconds their conversation took in real time, Thor has been pulverized by the Mad Titan’s hand, body limp and bloodied as Thanos crouches down to lift his head from the earth. “Come, Loki!” Thanos calls out. “Witness what with be the first of many examples made of those you have decided to realign yourself with!”

Loki staggers forward, presenting himself as requested. “Do… not… touch…” Loki pants, a newly summoned a golden scepter clutched in one hand. He spits a mouthful of syrupy blood onto the ground. “My brother.”

Thanos smiles cruelly at him, grasping the defeated god by the skull and dragging him forward. “Hand over the Stones and I may consider sparing the two of you. You could continue by my side. By the side of the _ righteous _.”

“Lo… ki…” Thor chokes out, body floundering as he’s lifted into the air, trapped in Thanos’ vice. “Don’t… do it…”

Loki flashes what he surmises to be an apologetic look before producing the Infinity Gauntlet from beneath his cloak, continuing to walk towards his former commandant.

“No more tricks,” Thanos warns in a grave tone, tightening his fingers around Thor to force another pained, choked off sound out of him.

“No more tricks,” Loki agrees, tossing the gauntlet down at his feet. 

Clearly distrustful based on Loki’s previous actions, Thanos doesn’t release Thor as he crouches down just enough to pick it up off the ground. His eyes widen slightly when he’s able to lift it, rightfully surprised when his hand doesn’t pass right through the object. He tosses the thunder god aside, all but forgotten in favor of using both hands to obsessively turn it end over end, the offering apparently passing his examination.

Exalted by his own triumph, Thanos grins widely and slips his hand into the gauntlet, the exoskeleton expanding to fit perfectly over his flesh. He turns his chilling grin onto Loki. “I remember once telling you that I saw similarities between us… Your desires and means matched my own… But, you see, there is a difference between you and I at the end of the day. The things you do? Illusions… trickery… None of it is substantial. None of it is _ real _ . I, on the other hand, am _ very _ real. I am an unstoppable force… I… am… inevitable.”

He raises his hand high in the air, snaps his fingers, and then… nothing.

Loki slowly lifts his head, grin spreading as he turns the scepter in his hands, uncurling his fingers around the handle where a glowing red stone is embedded. “Is this real enough for you?”

The reality he had created in the Mad Titan’s mind fades. The nano-gauntlet dissipates in a burst of shimmering rouge. Loki’s scorned illusion magic, bolstered by the power he gained from having the Reality Stone in his control, drops away from the battlefield like a shroud. “Now!” He shouts before grabbing hold of Thor and teleporting them away, closer to where Tony is knelt on the ground. His legitimate creation is clutched in his hand save for one gem. The other figures who had made it in time are revealed as well, swooping in to converge to the same point.

Loki plucks the Reality Stone from his staff and tosses it to Tony as he and Thor run the last few feet to close the distance between them. Tony guides his hand into the gauntlet, prisms of light sparking across the surface of it as the nano-tech melds perfectly into his armor, the stones clicking into place along the back of his hand. The portals open up above them, more heroes Loki had so reluctantly fought alongside dropping in around them.

He’s the first to reach Tony. He skids to a stop beside him, capturing the outstretched hand not wielding the Stones. Their fingers entwine together, Loki holding onto him so tightly he’s sure he could shatter the nanomachines beneath his grip. Steve, now recovered, is next, coming up on Tony’s other side to clasp his shoulder. The blue-armored figure lands next to them and locks arms with Steve. Loki feels Thor’s hand slip into his own, the one not in Tony’s. More and more of them join up to form this human barricade, making some sort of contact with one another, all leading to their apex. To Tony.

The spectrum of light emanating from Tony’s hand his blinding. Rainbow light dances across all of them, the power of the Stones surging outward and passing through whatever life force it can latch onto. Loki feels overwhelmed himself as it passes through him, feeling only a sliver of relief when it moves onto Thor. It crashes through all of them like a wave, attempting to knock them free from the source of power. Loki clenches his jaw and refuses to stand down, hand numb where it meets Tony’s. He watches Tony’s face as he summons the strength to lift his hand, the source of all the power in the universe brought onto the shoulders of a single, mortal, man who brings his middle finger and thumb together in a succinct slide.

_ Snap. _

Loki feels Tony slip from his grasp as the light fades from his eyes. He slumps against his nearest support. Thor wraps his arms around him, barely standing himself. “_ Norns… _” he hears the man whisper beside his ear. Weakly, he lifts his head.

Their adversaries fade to ash right before them. The few Leviathans still floating overhead, the Sakaaran pilots, the other alien beasts and savages, every last one of Thanos’ most devoted followers, his _ children _, all becoming nothing more than dust in the wind.

Thanos. The nightmare that had plagued him. A man that had once promised him rule over a grateful universe. A man he had pledged undying fealty to. His murderer, in this life. Reduced to a pile of soot right in front of him. A pile of soot can’t hurt anyone.

It’s over. It’s truly over. He turns to Tony. This is the part where they revel in their victory, no? Where they all celebrate the fact that at last, at long last, good has prevailed over evil. Perhaps he will be mocked for ever having doubted Tony’s capabilities. He’ll laugh at him and rub in the I-told-you-sos. Loki may even allow it, considering it’s well-deserved after how dismissive he had been of Tony’s plans of grandeur. They’ll share in a private embrace, something just for the two of them before they’re lost in a mass of celebration among their comrades.

But there is no revelry, no smiles, no laughter. Tony lays limp on the ground, all six of the stones fallen free from his smoking gauntlet, their light dimmed in the dirt next to him.

He stumbles back a few steps, letting the more important figures in Tony’s life take up his side. Rhodes, the man who showed the most concern for Tony before reaches out for him. Tony weakly raises one hand, but his eyes are glazed over, the light in his chest flickering. “Hey…” Rhodes whispers, placing his armored hand over Tony’s. “You fall I catch you, remember? I got you, man… Keep breathing.”

The talkative child from before— Peter, he had introduced himself mid-battle no less— stumbles through the crowd and falls to his knees on Tony’s other side. Tears flowing freely from his eyes as he smiles through the sobs fighting their way from his chest. “Hey… Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter. H-Hey… W-We won, Mr. Stark… You did it, sir, you… you did it!... Tony..?” His voice breaks as his head falls to Tony’s chest, lithe frame trembling beneath the armor surely gifted to him by the man laying limp beneath him.

The woman in the blue armor approaches slowly, helmet now removed to expose her delicate features, her shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair. She kneels down next to Peter, gently taking him by the shoulders and shifting him out of the way to be held by the other Iron Man. She gently caresses Tony’s hair, brushing the blood-stained grey streaks away from his face. “Tony?... Tony, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Her voice is purposefully strong, unwilling to break just yet.

_ Ah, the presumed Pepper Potts. _

Something like recognition flickers in Tony’s eyes for a moment, his head turning ever so slightly to rest his cheek against the palm of her hand. “Pep…” he mouths.

“Yeah,” she laughs without humor, forcing a smile. “We’re going to be okay, Tony... _ You’re _ going to be okay. You still with us?” Tony gives an almost imperceptible nod. “Good, good, stay with us now, honey. You’re going to see Morgan again, okay? She’s waiting for us—” Her voice begins to betray her, wavering ever so slightly as her lower lip trembles.

That seems to awaken something in the unresponsive expression on his face. His eyelids flutter, head bobbing in a more determined motion. He slowly sits up, ignoring Pepper’s caution as he brings himself to his feet, surveys the wasteland around him like he can’t quite believe he’s accomplished what he set out to do the entire time Loki has known him. He tilts his head towards the sky, the dark clouds beginning to dissipate overhead.

What happens next is indescribable. One by one, like faithful dominoes, the allies left standing around them slowly drop to one knee. What starts with Rogers and emanates outwards, Loki watches as they all sink down, faces filled with relief. With victory. With respect for their Man of Iron.

_ In the end, you will always kneel. _

_ Not to men like you. _

_ Men like what, then? _ Loki had questioned this since the moment he heard those words fall from the mouth of an intransigent Midgardian. He had questioned it his entire life, even if he hadn’t realized that. A long time ago, when he was very young and still infantile enough to eagerly accept and cling to the words of wisdom imparted on him from his parents, Odin had told him this: _ A king is not the amount of wealth he amasses, the number of battles he’s won, or the decrees he places over a kingdom. A king is whatever his people make him out to be. No matter how he views himself, he will never be more or less than this. A king is what you, and only you, see him as. _

Tony’s faith in him. His optimism, his light. How Frigga took to him right away. His intellect, his resourcefulness. The way his naive heart chooses to believe Loki when he’s given him no reason to do so. His unwavering goodness that somehow remains steadfast in a universe that doesn’t deserve it. The quickness of his hands, his sharp wit, those keen eyes. His drive to not only make the world around him better, but to improve himself as well. Constantly improving, adapting, creating. His inability to _ stop _.

_ He’d make an ideal ruler, if there was such a thing _ … _ Though he’d never want it, _ Loki thinks before slowly sinking down onto one knee, head unbowed as he meets Tony’s gaze that passes over all of them in disbelief before settling on Loki for a beat longer than the rest. 

_ The only men who deserve it never do. _

* * *

He despises the smell of Midgardian hospitals. How anyone could feel soothed with the unbearable aroma of chemicals and cleaners smothering their senses, he’ll never know. Healers rooms back home always smelled like natural herbs and remedies, a sweetness and spice to the air that was never overpowering nor offensive. Nothing overly manufactured like this place with it’s off-white walls and speckled floor tiles.

It’s not hard to find where Tony is being kept along with any of the other New York-based Avengers who aren’t blessed with some sort of advanced healing factor. There’s a team of SHIELD guards stationed throughout the private wing of the building, patrolling the halls alongside harried nurses and doctors.

They’re ornery with him when he’s unable to present a valid form of identification, even after he explains exactly who he is and that it’s not common practice for a Norse God to carry around a little plastic card with him. A bunch of bumbling mortals who clearly don’t have the good sense to recognize true power and status when they see it. Fists clenched at his sides, he’s teetering on the edge of his control, inches away from inflicting nightmarish visions on all of their minds when someone calls out from behind.

“Hey, hey, he’s with me,” comes a slightly frantic voice accompanied by fast approaching feet.

“Ah, Captain,” Loki sighs without turning around, relaxing his shoulders. He tilts his head ever so slightly to his right as Rogers comes to a stop next to him, looking as equally thrilled to see Loki here. “You’ve returned from your mission in one piece, I see. So sorry that I couldn’t accompany you,” he croons with a grin.

Rogers’ returned glare is about as threatening as a box full of golden retriever puppies. He looks a little tired around the eyes, most likely attributed to the fact that he just hopped around in the quantum realm for quite some time now to return all the stones to where they had been plucked from. The Tesseract was dropped off in 2012 Manhattan, in the lobby of Stark Tower, but Loki did not go with it.

After the smoke had cleared from the Battle for Earth, the two of them had no choice but to come clean about their magically binding contract that unfortunately remains unfulfilled. Naturally, no one wanted to take his word for it, but after enough backing from Thor and a few of the other Asgardian warriors present who knew of The Pact, the rest of the Avengers agreed that returning Loki to his original timeline was too much of a risk. They had almost lost Tony that day already, there was no reason to tempt the unknown.

So here he stays, standing amongst the other heroes of Earth, for once having been on the “_right _” side of bloodshed.

“Have you seen him yet?” Rogers asks as they walk down the long hallway together, an airless attempt at small talk.

“No,” he answers flatly, not bothering to reciprocate. Unlike Captain Patriot, he’s not constrained to _ societal norms _. The team has come and gone from Tony’s bedside for the past few days, Loki turning up his nose at Thor whenever he came with the offer to visit. Too prideful to admit his own worry over the human’s well-being to anyone but himself, the fact that Rogers has caught him— helpfulness aside— is inconvenient to say the least.

They know which room is Tony’s by the extra security standing outside. They don’t even look twice at Loki, simply nodding to their Star-Spangled leader and stepping aside. Rogers looks to him then, not opening the door. “I’m… going to go check on Nat. Make sure she’s doing okay.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Sure you can trust me alone with him in there?” He leers.

Rogers doesn’t dignify the gibe with a response, rolling his eyes before he turns to go, entering a room a few doors down.

Loki straightens his shoulders and turns the handle, surprised to find that he and Tony aren’t in fact alone. He had sat in the lobby and observed everyone who exited the wing, seeing Strange, Banner-Hulk, Nebula, Rhodes, and the Raccoon all come and go over the course of the morning. He supposes he forgot to factor in anyone who has probably been sleeping by Tony’s bedside since he’s been admitted.

The Not Wife is sitting on the corner of Tony’s bed, laughing at something the genius has said moments before his entrance, the sound light and clear like a bell. It tapers off when the both of them turn their heads to see Loki in the doorway, the crinkles around her eyes fading as her smile drops away.

Loki suddenly doesn’t like the attention, both of them staring at him like he’s some _ alien— _ Well, he is, technically, but not the kind to be _ gaped _ at in such a manner. He refuses to shrink away from it, keeping his shoulders square as he stands in the doorframe. “Am I interrupting?”

Pepper’s eyes awkwardly dart away from him, landing on Tony who is still staring. He eventually gathers his thoughts, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Ah, no… Pep, you were… uh…”

“I was just leaving,” Pepper finishes for him, rising to her feet. “I’ve got to pick up Morgan from the Parkers’...” she glances between them with uncertainty, tucking her hair behind one ear. “I’ll come back with her later tonight,” she says carefully. It almost sounds like a warning to Loki’s ears, whether intentional or not. She presses a quick kiss to Tony’s temple before taking her leave, eyes meeting his only briefly as she breezes past him, heels clicking down the hallway.

Once she’s gone Loki steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. “You’ve looked better.”

Tony rolls his eyes, one of them sporting a reddish bruise around it. He can see a lot of these blemishes across his skin, varying degrees of deep purples and blues to fading yellows. There’s still a few bandages over the healing cuts on his face, neck and arms, Loki able to see more bandages wrapped around his chest peeking out from the hospital gown hanging off his form. He looks thin. Tired. As if the use of the stones had sapped the very life force out of him. Knowing not all but enough about a simple Midgardian’s chance against the raw power of the stones, Loki wouldn’t be surprised to see that’s the case. His right hand is in a brace, Loki remembering the way his fingers had been uselessly twitching after they removed the gauntlet.

“Will it heal?” He asks, nodding towards Tony’s hand resting in his lap.

Tony nods his head, lifting up his arm for a moment to turn it this way and that. “Dr. Cho worked her magic on reforming the damaged tissue and ligaments. I’ll be good as new with a little time and physical training.”

“Ah. Good,” Loki’s eyes stray around the room, taking in every inch of it to keep himself from gazing at Tony for too long. There’s cheap balloons in the corner, beginning to wilt as the helium fades. Loki can’t help but smile when he sees images of Iron Man printed on the aluminum, someone clearly having a sense of irony in dropping them off. There’s cards as well, well wishes from his teammates most likely. Loki saw what could only be considered a shrine built outside of the hospital on his way in, pictures, action figures, flowers, and candles all gathered against one wall outside by the dedicated and grateful fans. He also notices the TV in the room is decidedly turned off. It’s only been four days since their final stand against Thanos, but of course the news cycles have been working overtime in the event that billions of people have suddenly popped back into existence. Oh, well. Not his concern.

“What’re you doing here?” Tony asks softly.

Loki turns to him, the man’s dark-chocolate eyes searching his face for some kind of answer. As if they’re trained enough to find the truth he so carefully cloaks behind indifference and manipulation. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our marks are still in place,” Loki states plainly, avoiding answering the question.

Tony’s eyes dart down to the point right above where his brace stops, the pale ring of skin still present there. “Yeah…” his eyebrows knit together as he looks back at Loki. “What does that mean for us?”

Loki crosses his arms and walks over to the window, staring boredly out at the city down below. “It means there’s still something out there that poses a threat to me. Something neither of us accounted for.”

“Yeah, but _ what _ ?” Tony snaps, his voice rough with irritation. “This was supposed to be _ done _, Loki. You bound me to some stupid magical contract against my will—”

“You were perfectly _ willing_,” Loki reminds tersely.

“Semantics, whatever!” Tony bursts, throwing his hands up and immediately wincing afterwards. His hand goes to hold one rib for a moment and Loki resists the urge to offer a lending hand. He could heal Tony with a flick of his wrist if he wanted; The man wouldn’t need to subject himself to wasting away in a hospital bed with bland food and blander company for so long. “Yes, I meant what I promised you, but that was meant to be a short-term contract. You said _ immediate _ threats to your well-being. Considering we’ve jumped forward eleven years, Thanos is officially dead, and you’ve got your powers, I’m having a hard time believing there’s someone or something else out there that could hurt you.” His eyes narrow for a moment as they drop to his lap, good hand twisting in the starchy hospital sheets. “Is there something you’re keeping from me?”

“Always,” Loki scoffs, regretting it the instant Tony shoots a glare his way, his good humor clearly waning. He sighs. “No, Tony... Not this time. You’re right, the Pact was only meant to secure my safety while we were still traveling together while I was still vulnerable. I had fully expected the requirements to be fulfilled by now, but that clearly isn’t the case.” Tony looks less than thrilled by his answer. He sighs. “What do you want me to say, Tony? I have no answers for you. I don’t know why you’re suddenly so irate over this. You took it in stride before.”

The heart rate monitor that has been quietly beeping by Tony’s side this entire time starts to pick up in pace. “Before I was pretty sure I was going to end up dead anyway!” He shouts. There’s some shuffling outside, but no one enters. “I’m not afraid of that anymore. We finally, _ finally _ have peace. Now was supposed to be the time I can finally _ rest _ . I should be allowed to go home to my daughter every night and raise her properly. I don’t need to answer every call and leave my family wondering if it will be the last time they see me! I’ve been doing all that I could to protect my planet from otherworldly threats for _ years _ , and I’ve done a damn good job of it, I like to think! So tell me what I did to deserve being latched onto by some magical _ leech _ that’ll keep me from doing so!”

Loki flinches as if he’s been stricken. “Is that all I am to you?”

Tony sighs derisively, slumping against his pillows. “That’s not what I meant—”

“My mistake then!” Loki erupts, throwing his hands up as he pushes away from the wall. “Of course you didn’t mean to imply that I’m some cancerous shadow threatening death at every turn. You seem to forget that I’ve stuck my neck out more for you than I have anyone else in the entire galaxy in the time we’ve known together! The Pact affects me just as much as it does you, but what does it matter, right?” He laughs, the sound high-pitched and grating. “My life could never matter as much as yours, the Savior of Earth! Because I’m not married with a child and surrounded by devoted lemmings who are willing to die for whatever noble cause I can think up? Because the entire world isn’t aching to kiss the holy ground I walk upon? Because I’ll never be seen as more than Thor’s _ twisted, murderous, villain of a little brother _?”

Tony stares at him wordlessly. Perhaps he’s gotten carried away, let his deepest insecurities show too much to a man he never should have trusted. He hates the pity he sees in that impossibly warm, heartbroken gaze.

His arms fall stiffly to his sides. He feels himself shutting down again. He lets it happen, casting his attentions aside. “I’ll find a way to break the spell. It’s never been done before, but I’ve never let that stop me before. I’ll stay away until you’re completely rid of me.”

“That’s not what I want… We could figure it out together,” Tony offers weakly. “I didn’t mean what I said, I was just upset. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” Loki decides for both of them, posture rigid as he grabs the handle and wrenches the door open, hearing the hinges snap under the pressure.

“Where will you go?!” Tony calls out to him, voice echoing into the hallway right as the door hangs open behind him, unable to close thanks to his carelessness.

Loki doesn’t answer him. He doesn’t know, and will never be one to admit such an atrocious thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys as always for the continued patience and support!! This chapter was a bit of a bear what with it being 90% action, so I hope it didn't bore. Consider it my love letter to the fact that Loki absolutely deserved to be in the Endgame fight.
> 
> Anyhoo, the next chapters should be a little faster to follow, fingers crossed! <3


	9. You Should Stay

** _Ten Months Later_ **

There’s a raven on his bed.

Loki had awoken with such a start that he instinctively summoned a dagger to his hand, clumsily slicing a gash into his downy pillow as he shot upright in bed. Torn from his torrid dreams because of a sharp pinching sensation against his achilles' tendon, he expects some kind of intruder. Sleep weary, green eyes settle upon the ink-feathered culprit, a sigh escaping him at the overreaction.

Beady black eyes stare back at him, head cocked to the side as it perches unassumingly at his feet. Loki’s eyes slide over to the window he left open overnight, as he has throughout the past Summer months so he doesn’t wake up sweltering. This isn’t the first time a native creature has taken it as some sort of open invitation, but they normally don’t bother with  _ pecking at him while he sleeps _ .

“Alright, out with you,” Loki grouches, shaking his bed sheets to banish the thing. Rather than fly back out from whence it came, the bird indignantly flaps its wings and hops down onto the floor, stubbornly flitting around the room.

“Did Odin send you?” He grumbles in irritation, indicting his morning grogginess as the reason for him to be found talking to an animal as if it can understand him. A quick glance at the bird’s behavior is all he needs to know it’s nothing more than a common fowl. The irony doesn’t miss him, though. “No, no, none of that. I will not be harassed by that idiot beyond the veil,” he shoos at the bird who has now taken to the shiny metal things on the ends of his boot laces.

It squawks surreptitiously at him as it stalks around his room, hopping back onto the rumpled bed sheets before extending its wings once more and taking off out the still open window. A single black feather flutters onto the edge of the sill, evidence that this hadn’t been an annoying extension of his dreamscape.

If Loki were a superstitious man, he’d consider it a poor omen for how his day will go. He dismisses the feeling as easily as he sweeps the feather out the window before closing it tight, fastening the metal latches to deter anymore curious beasts from finding their way into his chambers.

Hands on his hips, he sighs at the mess he’s made, quickly waving a hand to banish the explosion of fluffy, white feathers. He doesn’t have the patience to try and fix his gutted pillow, so he rids the room of that ruined thing as well. He listens to the rest of the house below for a moment, hearing nothing but emptiness. Ah, so his roommate has already started her day. Best he follow in her example.

Morning trespasser and mutilated pillow all but forgotten, Loki reluctantly dresses. As much as he would enjoy aimlessly ghosting through the crooked halls of his homestead like some wandering spirit, he’s expected to show his face today. Better to keep up appearances, even with the lack of formality he presently finds himself with.

It’s an overcast day as he steps outside, the beginnings of a very short Autumn that will lead into a very long Winter. He takes a deep breath, the crisp, salty sea air filling his nostrils and lungs. His senses are no longer so affronted by this place, accustomed now to the smell of fish and brine and the hemming and hawing of the gulls coasting above them. It’s beautiful, their motherland. The place where their first Midgardian worshippers came to be.

Sometimes Loki travels up to walk along the moor where he had said his last goodbye to his false father. He sits on the very same rock, staring out over the dark grey-blue waters below. Thor has joined him, once or twice, only to offer a silent, stoic companionship. These days he’s been making the venture alone.

“Oh, there you are,” Valkyrie calls out to him, walking up the cobblestone pathway. “I was just about to come harass you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to do so this morning,” Loki huffs under his breath as she approaches. She raises an eyebrow at him and he just shakes his head. “Never mind. Has he returned?”

“He’ll be landing any minute now,” she confers with the watch on her wrist before nodding back towards the coastline. She’s got a fishing net slung over one shoulder, clearly just coming back from a morning excursion through the fjords. Dampness still clings to her, mist sparkling in the loose waves of her hair and gathering in the creases of her raincoat.

“Best not keep him waiting then,” Loki falls into step easily beside her as they walk towards New Asgard Proper, the houses getting closer together and smell of fish strengthening as they trudge along.

She peers sideways at him. “What’s got you so sluggish this morning? You’re normally such an early riser.”

Loki shrugs, tipping his head up towards the sky as he estimates when the next rain will come through. The sun is making a valiant effort to break through the grey skies, but it’s clearly a losing battle judging on the dark clouds in the distance that are rolling through as reinforcements. “I think… I was having a delightful dream.”

“ _ Delightful _ ,” she snorts. “That’s unlike you.”

“Yes, I know,” he replies, forgoing any sort of quip he would normally return. 

“Well?” She prods, elbowing his side. “You’re rather quiet today, not that I don’t mind the lack of complaints buzzing about my ear. Must’ve been some dream to get you all out of character like this.”

He squints ahead, not really seeing the bustling Asgardians around him as they shuffle through the thoroughfare. He remembers… brown eyes, warm like whiskey… Oil-stained fingers… grey-speckled facial hair...

“Would you quit grinning like that? It’s freaking me out,” Valkyrie complains. “Out with it, what was this dream about?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, tempering his grin. “Oh, nothing.”

The docks are crowded when they finally reach them, the news of his brother’s return evidently spreading like wildfire amongst these people. Once gossips, always gossips, he supposes. The crowd easily parts upon their approach, Loki painfully aware that he’s no longer the cause for such courtesy.

Upon his arrival to the coastal town once known as Tønsberg, Norway, he discovered that he was not accompanying the King, but the  _ Queen _ of New Asgard. Thor had rescinded his title to Brunnhilde, and rightfully so considering his headspace following Asgard’s destruction. Without much discussion or fanfare, she had forgiven Loki for all his previous crimes against Asgard, welcoming him to their new home as a new man. Apparently his previous self had struck up an odd sort of camaraderie with her, something enough to endear this version of himself to her despite their lack of history. With Valkyrie sworn in as their leader with the full support of the remaining Asgardians behind her, there would no longer be a pressure on bloodlines and nobility.

Yet here they are, two former princes, one earning the raucous welcome from his people while the other caused barely a stir when he arrived last year. Loki knows his jealousy is unwarranted. He renounced these people, this place, thus renouncing himself as deserving of their acknowledgement and praise. Though he is still technically Prince of Jotunnheim (also renounced), along with the loss of their home realm and the destruction of that damn gilded palace and city, the people too have been humbled. There is little to no class structure left among them, all of them living in this quaint little village south of Oslo, doing their due diligence in contributing to the newly established society.

No more titles, no more throne, no more wars between realms. The destruction of Asgard in this universe is quite possibly the best outcome this version of himself could ask for.

But even still… There has been something missing. Something he isn’t quite willing to face, and something easy to brush off as there’s a glint in the sky above them, a familiar spaceship growing in size as it barrels through Earth’s upper atmosphere.

It comes to a hovering stop above the dark waters, the bay door lowering slowly. Cheers rise up around them as their golden star steps off board, throwing a wave over his shoulder at the rest of the ship’s occupants before jumping onto the docks below. Arms continue to flail and wave as the ship ascends back into the sky, hovering for just a moment longer before zipping away in the blink of an eye.

“I see the soul-searching mission with the Guardians has been kind to you,” Loki calls out as Thor approaches them, grinning broadly with a large sack hoisted over one shoulder. He groans in protest when he’s suddenly swept into a hug, Valkyrie being squashed against his side as they’re both lifted off the ground in Thor’s usual greeting.

The Thor now standing in front of him— and presently crushing his lungs— is much more likened to the Thor he knew before coming to this universe. Excess amount of fat now nowhere to be seen, his overtly muscular physique is back, with a little added bulk that he wears well. His beard and hair are freshly trimmed, dreadlocks grown out and sheared off to leave shining golden hair falling freely just past his shoulders.

“It’s so good to see you, Brother! And you Valkyrie!” He booms joyously, swinging the two of them around for a moment longer before setting them down to wave graciously at the rest of the spectators. “I trust things have been prosperous?”

“Yes, well, you’d know that if you responded to my last message I sent you _ a month _ ago,” Valkyrie chastises through a grin, walking back through the crowds with him.

“I never received it! Ah, that must’ve been when the Guardians and I got ourselves into a bit of a mess on A-Chiltar III! We were lost in the marshes for weeks, no communication in or out— Norns, all the stories I have to share with you two!” He laughs, slapping them both on the back. “Let’s grab a drink!”

Loki knew better than to have any plans for the day of his brother’s return, expecting the usual halting of all other goings-on in favor of giving him a true welcome. While there may not be the proper settings for a feast in the great hall to be had, he supposes they have the  _ New _ Asgard equivalent.

The local pub is unsurprisingly empty seeing as it’s not yet midday, the lone bartender welcoming Thor back with exuberance. Loki has a sneaking suspicion it’s less personal celebration and more joy that his best customer has finally returned home.

A round of mead has been delivered to them before they’re all fully seated in a corner booth, Thor’s eyes immediately glinting with danger. He scoops one of steins into his hand, dark liquid sloshing against the rim as he hoists it up. “What’s say we have a good old fashioned drinking game?”

Valkyrie rises to the challenge while Loki further wilts. “You’re on!”

“Must we?” Loki sighs under his breath, immediately jostled from both sides. “Also it’s still  _ morning _ , you know.”

“Come on, Loki! I haven’t had a proper challenger in  _ months _ . Those Guardians are severely lacking when it comes to the same level of tolerance we Asgardians have!”

“How many times do I have to remind you I’m not  _ Asgardian _ ,” Loki carps but reaches for his own stein all the same. “Even if I were, I doubt I’d be able to keep up with the two of you inebriates.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try!” Valkyrie cackles before immediately gulping down half the stein, Thor quickly following her lead. They’ve both polished off their first servings before Loki’s even taken a sip of his own.

Their little drinking challenge is less of a  _ game _ and more just the three of them swapping stories and occasionally seeing who can chug their mead the quickest. Loki is resigned to the fact that he’s no match for the two of them, but he plays along all the same, lagging behind but doing his best to drink an amount that satisfies both of their needs to get him completely drunk in the middle of the day.

His tolerance, despite being superhuman, is still far less than either one of his drinking partners. He loses track of time and drinks as the hours wear on, more patrons finding their way into the bar. Many of them are happy to buy a round of drinks for their table in celebration of Thor’s return, and before he knows it, his usual affectations have all but faded. His posture is lax and open, letting himself laugh and react freely to whatever exaggerated stories are thrown at him, sharing plenty of his own to not be outdone.

Thor is regaling in the time he saved himself and the Guardians from being dismembered and devoured by Sszardilian reptoids when Loki feels a buzz in his pocket. He pulls out the phone he was gifted by Thor and hardly uses to see a blurry, single-worded text on the screen.

_ Dinner? :) _

His eyes snap up to squint out one of the nearby frosted windows, seeing that it is indeed completely dark outside. The entire day had slipped right past him in a haze of booze and tall tales, his stomach appropriately reminding him he cannot survive on bar cashews and fried potato crisps alone.

It takes a fair amount of convincing to drag the two of them out of the bar, eventually enticing them with the prospect of a well-cooked meal at his house and the promise that there is more alcohol under his roof. Loki allows himself to be sandwiched between the two of them, looping his long arms around both their waists as they giggle and trudge along, street lanterns from above lighting their way.

The house smells delicious as they come up the drive, the heady scent of stewed vegetables and meats meeting his nose the instant the three of them stumble through the door. Their wooden chairs groan in protest as Thor and Valkyrie both heavily slump into them around the dining room table, Thor somehow ending up toppled over with the chair now sitting on top of him. Loki rolls his eyes and shambles his way around the corner, grasping the frame of the entryway to swing himself around into the kitchen.

He winces as his hip collides with the cabinet he had momentarily forgotten the existence of, nervous eyes flitting attentively to him at his stumbling. “I’m fine,” he assures her with a complacent smile.

Kalda arches an eyebrow at him, smile playing on her lips. She has Stark’s invention pushed onto the top of her head, probably to keep them from slipping down her nose and steaming up while she cooks. The tiny remote she normally carries is squirreled away in the pocket of her cooking apron, but he doesn’t need the device to translate the exact look she’s giving him.  _ You’re pissed as a newt _ .

“I’m not that—” an ill-timed hiccup escapes from him. “Alright, so I’m bladdered, so what?” He throws an arm out, earning a giggle out of her. “Thor is back. Val is here as well,” he adds helplessly.

Her other eyebrow joins its sibling as more sounds of their dinner guests thumping about reach them, most likely a game of trying to knock each other off their chairs.  _ I’m mute, not deaf _ , her blank expression quips before she shakes her head and opens the cabinet to bring out their largest bowls.

Loki doesn’t bother to offer his help, knowing that him being three sheets to the wind and trying to assist in the kitchen is just a recipe for disaster. “Pull out the good wine, will you?” He calls lazily over his shoulder before returning to the dining room.

Kalda is a saint, dealing with Thor’s smothering, Valkyrie’s flirting, and Loki’s general complaints about the state the two of them are leaving his dining room in, all while serving them the stew and filling their wine glasses. A part of him hates to make her feel like she’s still just a servant girl in her own home, but even plastered he knows that she rather enjoys keeping her hands busy and taking care of others.

He decides to take it easy on the wine, only polishing off half his glass before he pushes it away, letting Kalda replace it with a tall glass of water over the course of dinner. She listens politely to the latter half of Thor’s tale that he’s been trying to spin since their trek back to the house, the man getting lost in all sorts of tangents and confusing himself on which events came first or last.

“What about you, Loki?” Thor suddenly booms, drawing his attention away from the empty bottom of his bowl. “All you’ve talked about so far has been tracking down old nemeses to make peace or—” he draws a line across his neck with an index finger, pulling a ridiculous face with his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth that makes Valkyrie snort wine through her nose. Kalda is immediately reaching over with a napkin. “What’s come of all that research you were doing to remove the Pact?”

The buoyant atmosphere immediately shifts, all expressions but Thor’s dropping for a moment. Loki is the quickest to recover, schooling indifference as he leans back in his chair ever so slightly. It’s impossible for Kalda to reign in her sadness and Valkyrie her discomfort, both the women’s eyes downcast. Delayed, Thor realizes his mistake, getting that kicked puppy look on his face as his eyes dart between all their expressions.

“I think I need to go for a walk,” Loki decides, pushing himself away from the table, the sound of his chair on the hardwood grating. “Get some fresh air. Sober up.”

“Loki…” Thor tries weakly, making a motion to get up before Valkyrie catches him by the arm.

“Let him go…” Loki hears her mutter behind him, already halfway out the door.

By the time he returns home, Valkyrie has already slogged off to her own residence to attempt to sleep off the coming hangover. Thor, on the other hand, rather than take to the guest bedroom Kalda has so graciously offered, ends up face down on their couch, already snoring by the time Loki fetches him an extra pillow and blanket.

“Loki…” he grunts sleepily, rolling onto his back so he can look up at him. His hand flails out from beneath the blanket, Loki not sure what the intent is until it catches him by the right forearm. Loki tenses for a moment, eyes falling away as he allows Thor to slowly push up his sleeve. “So it is still there...”

“Yes,” he admits grudgingly, allowing the drunkard to stare for only a moment longer before he tears his arm free from his grasp out of necessity rather than being intentionally mean. He rubs his other hand over the mark before tugging his sleeve back down to his wrist.

“So you have no idea how to fulfill it?” He asks with hesitance, clearly not wanting to offend or set him off.

“... No,” he says, adjacent to a lie. Thor narrows his eyes at him. Damn his brother. Even plastered he can somehow see right through him. “Well… I have an  _ inkling _ , but it’s not a possibility.”

Thor frowns. “Have you discussed it with—”

“ _ No _ ,” Loki answers too hastily, too sharply, tongue loosened by all the wine and mead. “I told him I would leave him out of this and that I’d figure it out on my own. That’s still my intention.”

Blue eyes soften at him, suddenly sober. “I’m leaving for New York in three days to visit with the rest of the Avengers... You should come with me.”

He gapes at Thor in dismay. “In what world would I ever willingly do such a thing?”

“In this one?” He suggests through a yawn. “You don’t have to decide right away. I wanted you to know it’s an option… I’d be happy to have you with me, and I think it will be good for you… to go see him again…”

There are a million and one replies racing through his brain in that moment, ranging from dismissively sarcastic to caustically outraged. He watches Thor roll away from him, and settles on none of them. “... Go to sleep, you lout.”

“Think about it,” comes the muffled reply, the thunderer’s face squashed into the couch cushions once more.

He ends up in the kitchen, deciding to get to all the dishes before Kalda has the chance to shoulder all the cleaning duties herself. He even does it by hand rather than using magic, the girl insistent that the arcane arts just don’t get them as clean.

Loki blames his coming down from inebriation on the fact that he doesn’t hear her approach, dishes clattering together loudly in the sink as they slip from his grasp when she suddenly appears at his elbow.

“Kalda!” He scolds lightly “How many times do I have to tell you, you needn’t move around like a wraith here with me?”

“Sorry,” she breathes quietly, only for him to hear.

It’s still bizarre to hear her voice. The first word Loki ever heard her utter was his own name when she had approached him on the street on his first day back, a soft and disbelieving gasp of  _ Loki! _ reaching his ears as Valkyrie gave him the grand tour of his new home.

Apparently, she’d spent the last eleven years using Tony’s little gifted invention as more than just a communication assistant in going about her daily life. Loki had been the one to teach her to read all of those years ago, but their lessons had never delved into applying those consonant and vowel sounds into actual speech patterns. She had spent all her free time echoing the little voice that came from the glasses, slowly spelling out parts of words to hear them on a loop, mouthing them quietly to herself in the dead of night, when no one else was around to listen. Loki always knew her muteness came from a mental block. The physical ability to speak has always been there for her, and even now she only speaks small and simple phrases aloud when it’s just the two of them. He’s frankly touched she feels safe enough to do so, though he’s never told her point-blank how proud he is of her for overcoming what had been a huge obstacle for her entire life.

Tony caused a ripple effect wherever he went. Even without even being in their lives anymore, Kalda’s new found abilities were a constant reminder of a single act of kindness he bestowed.

She picks up the latter half of a two-man assembly line, drying the dishes after Loki has scrubbed and rinsed them clean. “I heard…” she nods back towards the living room where they can still hear Thor’s distant snores. “You’re… not going?”

Loki doesn’t look up from his work, the pads on his fingers beginning to prune. “Why would I?”

Kalda pauses. “To see Tony.”

It’s not a question. She stares at him with those earnest eyes, as if it should be obvious. Loki despises that look, hates that she’s always seen him so plainly. He sighs, handing her a bowl with a little more force than needed. “I know you have this romanticized idea about that little savior of yours, but you didn’t hear him that day. You didn’t see what he did,” Loki’s eyes darken for a moment, recalling the events he so wished he could scrub free from his mind as easily as he rids their dishes of stew residue. “He wants nothing to do with me, and I, him.”

She purses her lips. Holds up a finger. Loki watches her go, disappearing down the hallway towards her bedroom. She comes back a few moments later, a small, folded piece of parchment between her fingers. She holds it like something precious, almost hesitant as she carefully hands it to him. “I never showed you…”

Noting the great care she took with the paper scrap, he dries his hands before taking it from her. He unfolds it gingerly, eyes scanning across the messy scrawl of handwriting, a few errant blots of dark ink bleeding a few of the letters together, as if the person writing was inexperienced with a quill.

_ Kalda, _

_ If you’re reading this, hopefully everything’s gone according to plan. That, or Loki and I have been caught and are currently stuck in an Asgardian prison cell, in which case I’d hope you’d make the valiant effort to rescue us, but also don’t expect a favor that big. I’m going to just hope it’s the former rather than the latter, and that we can both rest easy that I’m back home and where I belong. _

_ It’s been a joy getting to know you these past few days. You’re an immeasurably bright, patient, and kind young lady, and I don’t know about your world, but that’s an incredibly rare find for mine. I know you’re used to listening, but I still want to apologize for talking your ear off. Thanks for keeping an old guy like me some company. _

_ I also want to thank you for being there for Loki, not just now, but back before I even knew the two of you. It seems like there’s not a whole lot he trusts when it comes to this place or anywhere, really, so he can use all the friends he can get. Don’t tell him this, but I’ve kind of gotten attached to looking after the asshole. I don’t know what’s going to happen next with us, but I hope that after we go our separate ways, he decides to go back to you. I’ll sleep a little better at night knowing he’s in good hands. _

_ Stay sharp. Enjoy the glasses. _

_ —T.S. _

Loki looks up from the paper, expression blank. “Was this supposed to change my mind?”

Kalda shrugs and takes the letter back, gently folding it along the well-worn creases and holding onto it rather than slipping it into a pocket where it could get pressed or crinkled in a way she didn’t like. “He cares, Loki. He cares about you.”

He can never find it in him to ever be angry or lash out at her, even though he wants to stuff all these roiling emotions into a lockbox and bury it deep in the backyard. “Maybe he did, once. But not anymore. Certainly not now.” 

Frustrated with him, she grabs the glasses off the counter where she had left them, shoving them crookedly onto her face as she types out all the things she’s unable to express aloud herself.  _ “You can’t know that unless you go to him. Have you even tried talking to him all this time?” _

“I don’t need to,” Loki spits. “He made himself quite clear after the battle that he wanted to return back to his regular, boring life, one that doesn’t include me in the picture of domestic bliss.”

She rolls her eyes and strides forward. In an uncharacteristic act of bullheadedness, she takes his wrist and pushes his sleeve up, marked arm exposed for the second time now. _ “He may be the one who made the promise, but you’re as much a part of this as he is. If you didn’t care about him, you wouldn’t have spent the last year constantly searching for a way to break the Pact.” _

He doesn’t rip his arm away like he did with Thor. After a moment Kalda allows his arm to drop, hanging uselessly at his side. “This mark is just a reminder to both myself and him that I’m nothing more than a burden,” he admits quietly.

“He does not see it that way,” she says, speaking out loud again in her hesitant, sloping cadence.

“How could you know that?” Loki’s eyes snap up to her, defensive and desperate. “You’re suddenly an expert on his feelings because of a few one-way conversations from a decade ago and a little goodbye note?”

She shakes her head gently, his harsh words doing nothing to penetrate her thick skin. “Because… I saw him then, with you… and I saw no burdened man. I saw a man who  _ cared _ … And that care does not go away.”

Loki doesn’t reply, his eyes dropping back to the sink. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder as she passes by him, bare feet knowing every creaky floorboard in the house and how to avoid them to make her silent retreat.

He picks up a glass to rinse it out, realizing too late that he’s crushed the thing in his hand, shards of it piercing his skin and causing the water in the basin to run pink. He plucks the pieces out, watching as the cuts stitch themselves shut, not a single scar left behind.

He doesn’t  _ get _ scars. At least, he  _ didn’t _ , until he earned a pesky ring of tanned skin on his forearm that refuses to go away despite all his attempts. He needs to be rid of it, one way or another.

He fetches himself another glass of Merlot, hoping to make his pride go down a little easier.

* * *

Three days later, he finds himself standing out on the moor with a Stark-designed jet parked a few yards away, surrounded by Asgardians to see them off and questioning if it’s too late to tuck his tail and retreat.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Loki asks for what must be the fifth time just that morning. “There’s room on board and I’m sure Tony would be overjoyed to see you.”

Kalda smiles and shakes her head, pale hair fluttering around bronze, flushed cheeks. “Don’t like flying. Tell him hello from me.”

“Yes of course,” Loki murmurs, hesitating for a moment. There’s quite the audience, but he throws caution to the wayside and draws Kalda in for a tight hug. “I’ll be home soon. Don’t burn the place down without me.”

Kalda laughs into his shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before he pulls away.

He boards the Quinjet, throwing one last look over his shoulder as the bay door closes. He flinches when Thor suddenly brings a heavy hand down onto his shoulder, Loki shaking it off in annoyance. “Come now, Brother, you don’t need to look so dreadful. Aren’t you looking forward to seeing Tony again?”

Despite discussing the man mere moments before, hearing his name so casually out of Thor’s mouth brings about a terrible sting to his pride. He takes his seat in the co-pilot’s chair, glaring over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t use those words, no.”

Thor flips a few switches and makes sure everything’s in order before dropping down in the seat next to him, taking the controls. “Yet here you are…” he says with a grin.

“Here I am,” Loki rolls his eyes. “Feeling just as much like a prisoner as the last time I was strapped into one of these things.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

The Quinjet travels at a much faster pace than Midgardian commercial airlines, but isn’t quite as fast as an alien ship with built-in hyperjump capabilities. He suffers through the happy medium of just a few hours trapped in the somewhat small space with Thor, pretending to sleep through most of the journey. With the time change between Norway and the American East Coast, it’s almost as if no time passed at all, the two of them chasing the sun around Earth.

He doesn’t go to the Avengers compound right away once they touch down in Upstate New York. He has Thor drop him off in the nearest city and swindles his way into an indefinite stay in a hotel suite, aliases and money and charm so easily fabricated. He'd been offered board at the newly rebuilt facilities, but being forced to sleep around a band of heroes who have all hated him for years sounds about as fun as stabbing himself in the eye with an ice pick. Repeatedly.

The idea of seeing Tony again is on a similar level of unpleasantness.

In an attempt to reset his internal clock, he spends the afternoon wandering the city, observing the Americans around him. He’s frequented Oslo enough in the past months that he’s well-acclimated now to their mortal ways, but the subtle differences between Norway and America are definitely present.

He doesn’t even undress when he collapses into his hotel bed come evening, falling asleep almost immediately seeing as it’s closer to dawn back home. He has his usual recurring dreams that regrettably revolve around Tony, his presence less abstract as if the distance is what kept his subconscious from fully forming the idea of him in his mind. He blames his restless night on the jet lag, even when he wakes up in a cold sweat the next morning, pulse racing from thoughts of the engineer naked and splayed out beneath him.

He sends a few cursory texts from his phone after his cold shower, one to Kalda letting her know he arrived to New York safely, and one to Thor as a warning that he would be showing up at the compound shortly. He has no idea if the other Avengers are expecting his presence, but it’s better to be safe than possibly get his head blown off by a laser gun the moment he steps onto the premises.

He enjoys a quaint breakfast at the little cafe across the street, electing to eat out on the patio so he can  _ observe _ . Finishing off his crepes and selecting his mark, Loki leaves too many American bills on the table before strolling down the sidewalk towards a man in a nice suit who’s getting out of an even nicer car.

It’s a sporty little thing, the sleek, black Porsche. It’s a nice enough day to leave the top down, and Loki says as much to get the man’s attention as he approaches. All it takes is a single moment of eye contact and a few, magically-laden words, and he soon has the keys willingly handed over to him by the helpless mortal who walks away in a sort of daze. Loki waves a hand at the license plate to adjust the letters and numbers on it as he walks around to the driver’s side, quickly pulling onto the street and punching the coordinates into the built-in GPS. Thor had mentioned something about a “car rental” while they were here, but honestly, where’s the fun in that?

Loki finds that as he announces himself to the automated system at the gates, he is in fact, not blown to bits by a hidden laser turret, but let right in. He makes his way up the long, paved driveway, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head to better view the compound.

It’s still very clearly a work in progress, but after almost an entire year is beginning to resemble the campus it once was. While some of the buildings look to be completely finished, gaudy “A” logo and all, the additional labs, gymnasiums, and other facilities appear to still be under construction. It’s about half the size it was when Loki had first happened across it, but it’s certainly well-off considering the amount of destruction Thanos’ army brought to the entire base during the battle.

He pulls up to what appears to be the main building, no one there to greet him as he opens the glass doors. The cool air is a welcome embrace from the dwindling Summer humidity outside as he walks through the empty lobby of the building. He follows the distant sounds of activity, ascending to the second floor and crossing a glass enclosed bridge that leads to a high-ceilinged gymnasium next door.

He enters the gym on the catwalk above, an elevated platform that wraps around the entire open space. He keeps himself concealed from view with a quick glamour to the front, stalking around to get a good view. He recognizes quite a few of the familiar faces from the Battle of Earth down below, although they’re all dressed in simple jumpsuits, dark grey with the white “A” emblazoned across their backs. The room is set up to be an obstacle course of sorts, padding lining the floors and walls to cushion whatever blows may befell them. All the sound echoes around the room, making it hard to pick out any distinct voices above all the shouting and sounds of combat below as blurry figures chase each other about. He sees Captain Rogers walking around with a clipboard and a stop watch, apparently overseeing the exercise and occasionally shouting out suggestions and encouragement.

“You going to stand up here and spy all day, or go down to say hello?” An unfortunately familiar voice comes from behind him.

He smiles derisively, not bothering to turn around. “I’m afraid your dear Captain doesn’t like me very much.”

Romanoff appears beside him, leaning casually over the railing. She’s dressed in the same dark grey tracksuit as her comrades below, hair damp and pulled back into a loose braid. Her face appears slightly flushed, as if she finished her own training exercises not too long ago. “You should give him a little more credit. We were all wary of you back then.”

“And now?” He asks.

Her green eyes cut sidelong at him, looking him up and down for a moment. “Undecided. The fact that your activity hasn’t tripped any of our radars for the past ten months is a point in your favor though.”

He flashes an acerbic smile. “As is the way of the _long_ _con_. No need to arouse your suspicions for my plans of world domination right away.”

The heavy sarcasm doesn’t seem to rile her in the slightest. “Oh, of course not. You’ll lull us into a false sense of security and strike when we’re least expecting it. I’m sure it will go over much better than your last attempt, hm?”

They share a brief moment of eye contact before turning their faces back towards the action on the first floor, biting back shared smirks.

They watch the demonstrations below in silence for a few minutes. The youngling—  _ Peter— _ is evading a barrage of attacks from all his allies, easily dodging out of the way and placing quick counter attacks all without the help of whatever advanced suits these do-gooders normally found themselves traipsing around in. The more Loki watches, he realizes it’s not so much a challenge for  _ him _ , having so many others ganged up on him, but the real challenge is for his opponents who are struggling to land a single blow on the well-timed acrobat.

“You won’t run into him here, you know,” she brings up as casually as if she were discussing the weather. “He barely even comes by in person anymore. Hasn’t been here in months since the main rebuild got underway. Prefers to do his  _ consulting _ from home, not that I blame him.”

They both know exactly who she’s referring to, which makes him angrier than it should. “I wasn’t…” he abandons the denial angle as soon as he steps foot onto it. Damn the woman and her exceptional perception. “The longer I put off having to see him, the better. I mainly came by to check in on Thor and see how your little team’s reconstruction efforts are going.  _ Know thine enemy _ and all that.”

Natasha snorts and pushes herself back from the railing. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself…” She pulls a pen and what looks to be a business card out of her pocket, scribbling something on the blank back of it before holding it out to him between two fingers. “Tony’s address. You should stop by before he catches word that your in town and tracks you down himself.”

He stares down at the slip of paper as she walks away from him. “I doubt he’ll want to see me,” he says honestly, unsure of whether or not he does so just to garner pity he doesn’t really deserve.

“I think he might surprise you,” she calls back to him without turning around, raising a couple of fingers in a lackadaisical goodbye.

_ He always does _ , Loki thinks with a little more fondness than he’s willing to admit. He stares down at the paper before crumpling it in his fist, holding his fingers tight over it for a moment. It would be all too easy to summon the smallest of flames to the palm of his hand. A simple incantation and all that would be left is a tiny pile of scorch he could wipe off on the side of his trousers and be done with it.

One by one, he uncurls his fingers and carefully smooths out the wrinkled paper, reading the address a few times. He slips it into the inside pocket of his blazer and goes to find Thor before he’s spotted by anyone else trying to aid in his fool’s errand.

* * *

Loki doesn’t begin to think that perhaps this is an abhorrent, preposterous, wickedly ill-timed idea until it’s far too late.

He should’ve taken note of the signs sooner, really. Too caught up in the drama of it all, showing up on Tony’s doorstep, unannounced, woefully romantic in a way— like a character from an Austen novel come to redeem themselves with some grand gesture. He’s all tunnel vision and nerves several hours after his conversation with the Widow, driving up the long winding dirt road leading him through an unfamiliar wood. Ha! To be nervous again. Loki can’t remember the last time he’s been  _ nervous _ for anything. It must have been centuries since he was so caught up in his own insecurities, heart pumping loudly beneath his ribs

He blames those damned nerves on why he misses some of the cues that perhaps his timing is less than impeccable. There’s quite a few cars parked along the drive— but that’s normal, right? Tony likes cars. He talks about all the fancy sports cars he owns and all the old beaters he likes to work on in his spare time. Loki parks his acquired vehicle alongside all the rest, striding confidently towards the cabin. He’s so preoccupied with trying to quell the sound of blood rushing about between his ears that he doesn’t hear the number of voices coming from inside the house. That cacophony of sound becomes much more clear when the door suddenly swings open, seemingly on its own accord.

“Oh! You’re not Auntie Nat.”

Loki’s eyes drift downward, realizing the doorway isn’t as empty as he previously thought. A little Midgardian child stands there, no taller than his hip, staring up at him with big, brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Tony’s eyes.

“Oh,” Loki echoes softly. “You must be Morgan.”

She cocks her head to the side, soft brown curls spilling over the frilly lace on her dress sleeves. “Yep. Who are you?”

“I’m, er,” what’s the proper etiquette when dealing with children? Is he supposed to crouch or kneel to address them properly? He remains standing and approximates what he hopes is a pleasant smile. “I’m friends with your father.”

“Morgan, what did we say about answering the door?” Tony’s voice cuts through all the noise from deeper inside the house, fast approaching. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat.

“That it’s an adult job,” Morgan mumbles with a drawn out sigh, taking a few steps back while keeping her eyes curiously fixed on the tall figure looming like a shadow in front of her.

Tony comes into view behind her, Loki’s eyes jumping up to the familiar face. He feels a phantom tingle on his arm, and the way Tony’s hand twitches for a moment at his side makes him think he’s not alone in the sensation.

Tony’s gaze is distant and slightly confused, eyes widening when he realizes Loki isn’t a figment of his imagination. “Loki?” He breathes.

“Hi.”

“Hi…” Tony stares him up and down for a moment longer before he glances back into the house. His hand tightens slightly where it’s resting on his daughter’s shoulder. “Uh, Morgan, sweetie, why don’t you go inside and help Mommy set the table? I’ll be in in a second.”

“Okay…” she allows, still looking suspiciously towards Loki as she retreats.

Tony presses his lips together before gesturing past Loki towards the large, wraparound porch. “We should… talk outside.”

_ Ah, you stormed the gates but could not even breach the castle, Loki. Idiot. _ He nods and takes a few steps back, watching as Tony follows and shuts the door behind him, drowning out the sound from inside once more.

He’s arresting, and unfairly so. Whereas Loki feels constantly cast in shadow, the orange glow of the sun seeming to avoid him altogether, the light is specifically  _ drawn _ to Tony, as if acknowledging a fellow star that shines so brilliantly. Perhaps there is some truth to the notion that distance makes the heart grow fonder. He looks well-rested, far more comfortable and lax than Loki has ever seen him, though he supposes most of their time together was spent being filthy and bloodied with very little sleep and constant stress plaguing them. His brown locks are tousled and almost youthful despite the streaks of silver woven between them. The cuts and scars he had come to know on the man’s face have all but faded, but when he gazes down at his hands he still sees plenty of healing scrapes and burns gleaned from his workshop. There’s a sparkling pink bandage wrapped around one index finger, a cartoon pony winking up at him as if it knows his tendencies to stare. When he meets Tony’s eyes again, the dark irises shine like liquid honey, golden in the setting sunlight.

Oh, he’s so  _ fucked _ .

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks, not in accusation, but perhaps with apprehension alongside genuine wonderment.

Loki’s mouth suddenly feels dry with uncertainty. He swallows it down, carefully schooling his expression into its usual mask of aloof confidence. “Thor just returned from his stint with the Guardians. He asked I accompany him on his trip to New York—”

“No, I mean,” a frustrated sigh. “What are you doing  _ here _ ? At my house?”

Loki’s rehearsed answer catches in his throat. “I… I decided my wounds were sufficiently licked clean and that it was time we work things out.”

His candor seems to soothe Tony somewhat, the tension in the mortal’s shoulders visibly relaxing. “Jeez, how long has it been? Almost a year?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you’re here Loki, I am… It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, I just…” His eyes drift over Loki’s shoulder as the sounds of a car approaches. “The timing is a little…”

Loki glances back to see a flash of red hair as Natasha unfolds herself from a sleek black car. She lowers her sunglasses when she spots the two of them, red lips curving into a smirk.

“Unfortunate,” he finishes for Tony.  _ She-Devil _ , Loki thinks, his annoyance growing exponentially when he sees Rogers step out from the passenger side.

“It’s, uh, family dinner night,” Tony admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “We try to all get together once a month, check in with everybody…” he plasters on a smile as the two of them approach, Natasha still sporting that knowing grin while Rogers’ eyebrows are furrowed, a covered dish in his hands. “You guys can head on in, I’ll be right there,” he says before either of them can comment on the unexpected company.

Loki swears he hears Natasha mutter something close to “that was fast” as she and Rogers disappear inside. Loki will plan her demise at a later date.

“You should stay,” Tony blurts out. While the suggestion seems impulsive, his expression is genuine as he looks up at Loki with those hopelessly warm eyes.  _ Curse him _ . “It’s the least I can do after you came all the way out here…” He seems to be fighting some internal battle for a moment, conceding to his sympathetic side as he takes a step closer to Loki, briefly brushing their hands together. “I want you to stay.”

That’s all Loki needs to hear. No need for any  _ “I appreciate the offer, but”s  _ or  _ “I couldn’t possibly impose”s  _ or whatever other pleasantries mortals exchange for the sake of  _ politeness _ . He simply smiles and nods towards the door, allowing Tony to open it and usher him inside.

The raucous noise coming from the back of the house quiets down as soon as he and Tony round the corner through the front den and past the stairs. There are people all gathered around the dining room and kitchen, sitting on countertops or leaning against chairs, all of them staring at Loki as if he’s a ghost that’s just poured out of the woodwork.

“Loki, you’ve sort of met most of the gang already— Nat, Steve, Nebula, Rhodes, Peter, Pepper. And the people you don’t know— that’s my best friend Happy, Peter’s Aunt May, and of course my daughter, Morgan.” Tony points out all the individuals in the group, most of which all smile and wave pleasantly if not out of slight confusion. “Everyone, this is Thor’s brother—” He catches the cutting glare Loki shoots his way at the descriptor and returns the pointed look as he continues. “—And my  _ friend _ , Loki.”

The introduction is awkward but manageable, the group large enough to move past the greetings and continue to pick up natural conversations amongst them as the table is set for dinner, steaming food carried over by an overflow of helping hands.

An extra chair is pulled up to the corner of the large dining room table, place settings shuffled around to make room.  _ An eleventh wheel _ , Loki annotates miserably. He wholeheartedly regrets his decision to stay, thinking it a much better idea to have turned Tony down and met him in the dead of night when no one else would be privy to their reunion.

Loki somehow ends up between the  _ children _ . He’s not sure how much his presence has disrupted the usual seating order, but seeing as each end of the table is occupied by either Tony or Pepper, he gravitates towards Tony’s side. Morgan’s chair with a booster seat is pulled up to the corner next to her father, while his other side is taken up by Natasha. He considers rounding the table to place himself next to her until that seat is claimed by Steve, and then so on and so forth around the table they all fill in. He ends up next to the Stark-Potts offspring, Peter quickly plonking down on his other side.

Loki isn’t so much folded into their little monthly ritual as swallowed whole by it. Part of him is grateful for their outwardly social behaviors. Everyone is leaning over one another for banter, shouts of  _ pass me this _ or  _ don’t hog all of that  _ passing jovially between one another. Loki doesn’t mind being mostly ignored, just listening in on the different conversations happening around them, observing all the familial bonds. It’s nothing like the cold, distant dinners he experienced in the oversized dining hall growing up.

“Mr. Loki, are you an Avenger like my daddy and everybody?” Morgan chirps at him, roping him into the conversation. She fixes those huge doe eyes on him while Tony reaches over with a napkin and wipes some stray sweet potato off her chin.

“Just Loki is fine,” he amends, trying not to visibly recoil at the idea of  _ him _ being an  _ Avenger _ . “And no, I most certainly am not.”

“But he did fight with us in the Battle of Earth!” Peter points out, abandoning his conversation with Nebula and Rhodey about some upcoming piloting lessons. “It was  _ awesome _ , Morgan. We rode on the back of a Pegasus together— it’s like a horse but with  _ wings _ .”

“ _ Whoa _ ,” the little girl breathes, eyes somehow growing in size.

“It was  _ sick _ . I remember flying alongside those big flying worm-ship things— Those were the same ones you brought to New York back in 2012, right?” Peter turns his gaze back on Loki. He shifts uncomfortably at the reminder, not missing the way Steve’s eyes flash over to them.

“Ohh, I thought you looked familiar,” Peter’s Aunt pipes up from his other side, leaning over the table so she can adjust her glasses and get a proper look at him. “That whole mess completely destroyed mine and Peter’s old apartment building.”

Loki prickles uncomfortably. “Er, right. I do apologize about that.”

May barks a loud laugh, waving a hand. “Don’t be! That place was a real shithole.”

And just like that, he’s in on the joke. An entire conversation is sparked into a debate on the Chitauri invasion of New York, Loki arguing the tactile points of his attempts to raze the city. He admits the weaknesses of the Chitauri as a whole, knowing he was the bottom of Thanos’ totem pole at the time of their alliance. He even gets into an in depth conversation with Nebula about the various alien armies that far outclass the Chitauri— a discussion that goes right over the heads of the rest of the table.

It’s certainly not how he pictured this night to unfold, but… It ends up falling into the category of not-as-excruciating-as-expected. Everyone walks away with limbs intact and no blood shed, so it’s certainly gone better than most large dinners he’s attended.

After dessert and last drinks are served, dinner guests trickle out, in pairs or one-by-one as the evening naturally winds down. Tony clears the plates and takes them over to the sink, Pepper tickling her daughter’s sides as she nudges her out of her seat and up the stairs, threatening her with make-believe monsters who will come to get her if she doesn’t brush her teeth properly before bed. Loki doesn’t need to tell Tony he won’t be leaving with the rest of them; A single moment of eye contact before he slips out onto the back deck is enough.

It doesn’t take very long until he hears the sliding door open behind him. “I believe there was another promise I made to you.”

Loki glances over his shoulder, Tony approaching with a cocktail glass in hand, dark amber liquid glittering inside. The warm porch light wraps around his silhouette in a yellow halo. He’s never seen a more welcoming sight.

“A Manhattan,” he smirks. “Figured it was appropriate enough.”

“Think yourself a comedian now, do you?” Loki shares in the grin, lifting the reminder of his once failed conquest to his lips. It tastes like strong, smooth whiskey with a bittersweetness to it that’s all together quite pleasant. He plucks the maraschino cherry garnish from the drink and closes his teeth around it, sliding it off the toothpick skewer. “Not bad.”

“Not bad!” Tony scoffs, crossing his arms over the railing as he takes his place next to him. “That’s one of my signatures.”

“Well, I believe you did claim— what were the exact words you used? Ah, yes, you’d make me the _ best damn drink I’ve ever ever had _ ,” he takes another sip, fighting a smirk. “This is subpar at best.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him and bumps their shoulders together. “You’re such an ass,” he laughs. “You’re probably more of an Appletini or a Sex on the Beach kinda guy.”

“I’m afraid to ask whether or not both of those are drinks, and if they aren’t, what exactly you’re trying to proposition me for.”

That earns him another laugh, Tony tossing his head back with it. It’s nice to see him so carefree, even if it does make Loki question that fluttery feeling suddenly stirring in his gut. The feeling gets far worse when Tony turns that kind gaze on him, the lines around his eyes deepening. “I’m glad you’re here, Loki.”

He bites back the urge to parrot back the sentiment. “Yes, well, you can thank your friend Natasha for that one. I should’ve suspected when she gave me your address that she was trying to throw me into the lion’s den.”

Tony smiles. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“I thought Rogers was going to reach across the table and stab me with a steak knife when we brought up New York.”

“Nah, that’s not really his style,” Tony dismisses easily. “He’d probably wing a dinner plate at you or something.”

They stare out over the backyard in silence for a while. Crickets can be heard chirping in the distance along with the sounds of other nocturnal woodland creatures coming out of their dens. Little glowing insects hovering near the grass and drift over the lake, their slowly strobing green lights reflected in the calm surface. Loki can see why Tony decided to take a departure from the city life he had grown up with and come out this far.

“Your, uh…” Tony rubs at his nose, glancing boyishly away from him. “Your hair is longer.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, lifting an idle hand to loop his index finger around the end of one raven lock, the length just past his sternum. He hasn’t thought to maintain his usual length since he started living on Midgard. Just one of the many things that have slipped his mind over the past several months of manufactured distractions. “So it is.”

“... Looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”

Another beat of silence stretches on.

“Hey,” Tony says softly. He doesn’t pull all of Loki’s attention, eyes still staring out into the night. He gives a slight eyebrow raise to indicate he’s listening. “I never really got the chance to apologize for what I said at the hospital.”

Loki shrugs one shoulder. “I didn’t really give you that chance.”

Tony can’t argue with that. “Still, I… I could’ve reached out and I didn’t. I made that mistake before and… well, it didn’t end well for anybody.” He turns to face Loki, reaching out to gently grasp his elbow. “I’m sorry.”

Loki looks over at him, eyes falling on the fingers gently curled into the sleeve of his suit jacket before they dart up to Tony’s face. Before he can stop himself he shifts closer, rotating them so Tony’s back is against the wooden railing. He hears the other man suck in a sharp breath as he fits their bodies together, letting a hand come up to caress his face. The grip on his arm tightens and he leans in closer, eyes lidded heavily as he watches Tony’s flutter to a close. He rests their foreheads together, noses brushing alongside each other. He hesitates before letting their lips touch, sensing the other man’s trepidation as strongly as if it were his own.

“Loki,” Tony interrupts softly, breath caressing his lips. He feels the man pull away by a micrometer. “I… I can’t. My family is inside…”

Loki doesn’t fully pull away yet, because Tony hasn’t either. He lets the hand cupping Tony’s neck slide down slightly, fingertips catching along the scruff on his chin as his palm settles into the smooth curve of his neck. He can feel the very mortal heartbeat thrumming underneath his touch. He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to lose this moment. “Do they know?”

“Did I tell my six year-old and ex-wife that I was sexually involved with a Norse trickster god?” Tony scoffs. He lets the closeness linger for a moment longer before carefully side-stepping out of Loki’s hold. “No, they don’t know.”

Loki’s eyes slowly drift open. He pushes himself off the banister in an easy movement, as if he hasn’t just been rebuffed, and downs the last of his drink. “I should go.”

Tony sighs, and it sounds like an agreement. “I’ll walk you out.”

When they re-enter the house, they both startle to see Morgan sitting on the now empty dining room table, pajama-clad legs swinging back and forth. Loki can hear water running upstairs. He wonders how long she’s been sitting there, and if the thick curtains that cover the glass sliding door were enough of a deterrent to keep her curious head from peeking through.

“Jesus Chr—Christmas! Missy, you’re supposed to be in bed already. It’s your first day of school tomorrow!” He scoops her up in his arms, holding her on his hip. “What are you doing down here?”

“I wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Loki!” She claims innocently, smiling over Tony’s shoulder at him. “Can he tell me my bedtime story tonight? More stories like the ones he was telling at dinner?”

“ _ Mr. Loki _ has to go home and get to bed, just like you, you little stinker,” Tony says, grinning at the glare that gets shot his way. He leans in close to his daughter, stage whispering in her ear. “But maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll come back another time and tell you some more of those stories.”

Tony’s spawn clasps her hands together and shakes them dramatically, eyebrows upturned. “Mr. Loki, pretty, pretty, pretty  _ pleaaaaase _ with extra goji berries on top, will you come back for more dinners and more story times?”

Loki’s eyes flicker between the two of them with uncertainty. While the child’s pleading gaze is sure to buckle the knees of even the strongest-willed individuals, it’s her father’s expression that causes his cold exterior to crumble away. “...I suppose that can be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for all the comments and kudos! This has been a blast to write, and I even extended the length by another chapter to add an epilogue onto the end!
> 
> I hope you're all ready for some sickly sweet domestic shit, because I sure as hell am.
> 
> New chapter coming in the next 2-3 weeks!


	10. That's Not Me

Loki bides his time before returning to Tony’s lake house. The last experience of being ambushed by a group of people Tony considers  _ family _ was mortifying enough for him to pull the brakes on his plans to try and integrate himself into the man’s life again.

Playing the occasional innocuous prank on random Midgardian in the city doesn’t prove to be as entertaining as he once thought, leaving him with only one real outlet to occupy his time with.

“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” Natasha greets with a shit-eating grin as he enters the main training building. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

“No, but I’m sure  _ you _ did, you colluding harpy,” Loki sneers as he strides across the polished floors.

“Hey, all I did was give you an address,” she feigns innocence, holding her hands up. “What I think you mean to say is,  _ ‘Thank you, Natasha. I recognize that family dinner night is somewhat sacred and the fact that Tony wanted me there is telling in and of itself.’ _ Oh! You are so very welcome, Loki. Happy to be of service!”

Loki rolls his eyes and walks beside her, following her down the hallway leading towards the gymnasium. “As if he’d be cruel enough to turn me away. He allowed me to stay for dinner the same way someone brings a stray cat in on a rainy day out of pity.”

“You know what usually happens to stray cats who get brought in though,” she peers sideways at him. “They don’t stay stray for long.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m beginning to dislike this analogy.”

“You started it.”

She pushes the double doors open into the same large training room as before, but this time the floor is completely cleared of all obstructions and obstacles. Loki spots Thor sitting on the raised platform against the wall alongside Wanda, a couple of figures he doesn’t recognize, and that Scott fellow from before who’s currently performing some kind of trick with a deck of cards. His audience is enraptured, Thor grinning when his card is pulled from his own pocket. The Master of None’s sleight-of-hand isn’t remarkable compared to Loki’s, but he supposes Thor isn’t used to the kinds of tricks that are meant for entertainment purposes and don’t aim to harm him in some way.

“Alright, guys, enough with the magic show. We’ve got an extra joining our sparring session today,” Natasha says, jerking her thumb towards Loki.

“Beg your pardon?” He asks flatly.

She raises an eyebrow. “What, like you have something better to do? You’re the one who followed me in here… like a str—”

“ _ Don’t _ say it.”

She smirks at him before turning back to the group, pointing out the new faces as Hope and Sam, otherwise known as The Wasp and The Falcon— Gods, did they all have these stupid little code names?

Thor jumps to his feet, clapping his hands together. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a good sparring match, Brother!”

“Sorry, Thor, your partner is landing in a bit. Can I get any other volunteers to partner up with Loki?”

The small group exchanges sideways glances, an extended moment of silence passing before Wanda gets to her feet. “I’ll do it.”

_ Mage versus Mage, not a poor match up _ , Loki thinks, looking the girl over. She skews towards the younger age range of most of the heroes he’s seen thus far, her frame small and lithe beneath the Avengers tracksuit.

“That work for you?” Natasha asks, hands on her hips.

Loki sighs, boredom the sole motivation into going along with whatever he’s just been roped into by the Widow yet again. “I suppose.”

“Perfect. The rules are simple, regular hand-to-hand, wrestling, grappling, pinning is all fine. No intent to maim or kill, please. First one to get knocked out of the ring loses,” she points out the outline of a square on the thick mats on the center of the floor, glancing over to Loki. “You might want to change.”

“Great idea, Romanoff. I would’ve absolutely fought in this three-piece,” he says drily before snapping his fingers, changing his clothes into a black tracksuit similar to the ones the others are wearing, sans any of the Avengers branding.

He and Wanda step into the ring, standing several feet apart. Loki holds his upright posture, hands folded calmly behind his back while Wanda spreads her feet and bends her knees, arms relaxed but at the ready at her sides.

“Oh yeah, and no magic,” Natasha calls out as a last second addendum.

“ _ What? _ ” Loki snaps, the sound drowned out by Scott ringing an old-time boxing bell.

Wanda, apparently privy to this information prior to one second ago, is already rushing at him, her leg swinging out at his knees. He’s barely ahead of her on reaction time, jumping back to avoid being brought to the ground so early. While the girl may be bolstered by her magic abilities, physiologically she’s just a Midgardian. Loki outmatches her in strength, speed, and fighting technique, all facts that she’s very aware of as well and uses to her advantage the best she can. She keeps herself out of reach and is careful with her offensive attempts, pulling the occasional unorthodox attack when Loki isn’t expecting it.

The cat and mouse game stretches on for a while, probably a very unsatisfying match to watch with no major blows landed on each other. She overextends her arm on one swing just enough for Loki to grab her wrist and use her momentum against her, flipping her onto her back. Before he can even revel in the victory, he feels a foot planted firmly on his abdomen and is pushed back. He catches himself before he can stumble too far, on instinct raising a hand and pushing Wanda back from him as she charges again in an attempt to get him out of the ring.

Wanda catches herself on the mat in time, looking up in anger. Her eyes flare up with glowing scarlet and he narrowly dodges to the side as he avoids an arcing blast of her magic.

“Hey, what did I say?!” He hears Natasha shout from the sidelines. Her warning is drowned out as Wanda advances, continuing to hurl masses of swirling energy from her hands. “Wanda!”

“He started it!” Wanda yells back without relenting. Loki has to throw a wall up behind him just to not be pushed from the ring, taking a blast of her magic straight to his chest and incapacitating him for a moment. He pushes his magic forth from his body, summoning several clones for cover as he rolls to the side to better disguise where his real form is.

Natasha is still shouting something at them from the side of the ring, but Loki can’t make out any words as blood roars in his ears. Wanda isn’t letting up as the clones encircle her, sending blast after blast right through the illusions, two more popping up where one once stood. She lets out a frustrated yell, eliminating a whole row of them in one sweeping motion, crimson magic pulsing angrily as Loki Prime barely avoids being hit himself. He needs to end this quickly.

Circling around behind her, Loki lets all the clones close in at once, each of them passing right through her until he comes up behind and grabs her in a headlock, gripping her forehead between thumb and forefinger. Normally, this is the part where his opponent’s eyes roll into the back of their head as they’re thrust into traumas hidden in the deepest recesses of their minds. Normally.

Furious, glowing red eyes stare back at him as she twists herself free, taking Loki by surprise and knocking him into his ass with a quick blast. Before he can reorient himself, she’s kneeling on top of him, pinning his arms at either side. “Nice try,” she growls before her hands grip both sides of Loki’s head, and suddenly everything goes black.

He’s alone in a desolate tundra. The leather and armor he dons does nothing to withstand the brutal cold, snow and ice whipping at the exposed skin of his face and hands. When he looks down, his hands are stained with a thick, dripping blood, but underneath that, his flesh is deep blue.

“Loki?”

He turns to see Frigga standing in the distance, seemingly unaffected by the cold. “Mother?” He asks, voice raspy as he begins to run towards her, kicking up powdery snow in his wake. “Mother!” He calls out, reaching forward. Her arms are outstretched, a golden vision of warmth and safety, but when he collides with her, she’s as cold and hard as stone.

“Loki,” she whispers, sounding terrified. When he looks up at her, he can see ice creeping along her fair skin, now turning an ashy grey. Her eyes are filled with fear as she looks at him. “You’re a monster,” her voice trembles, the ice slowly covering more and more of her form. “Look what you’ve done to me…”

He tries to claw at it, chip away, melt it off of her— “No, Mother—!” He cries, watching tears fall from her eyes and turn to crystals against her cheeks. “This isn’t me! I’m not—”

She’s turned to nothing more than an ice sculpture, expression still twisted with horror as it gazes down on him. He can see his own blurry reflection in the glassy surface of her body, crimson eyes set into cobalt skin. He reaches up to gently cup her frozen face, cracks emanating from his fingertips the moment he makes the gentle contact.

She shatters right before his eyes, Loki stumbling back as ice shards explode outward, whatever was left of Frigga blowing away in the wind. “Mom!” He yells, voice drowned out in the blizzard. White swirls in front of his vision, Thor suddenly appearing. He looks as he did in their early adolescent years, hair shorter, face less chiseled and more youthful. The armor he wears is a bit too large for him, shoulders not quite filling out to their full potential just yet.

Loki reaches out. “Brother—”

“Back, foul beast!” Thor roars at him, summoning Mjolnir to his hand. “We are  _ not _ family.”

The cruelty in his voice gives him whiplash. Loki barely has time to react, throwing his arms up in front of him when Thor suddenly charges, swinging the hammer right at his head. At the last second, his figure turns to snow, showering Loki in the bitter coldness of it once again.

His vision flashes. He recognizes the gymnasium replacing the backdrop of the freezing wasteland for only a split second, hints of it dancing along his periphery and disappearing from view the instant he tries to focus on them. “What are you doing to me?!” He growls aloud, mind finally sharpening enough to realize what’s happening. “Stop this!”

“Help!”

He whirls around at the sound of a familiar voice echoing from behind him. “Tony?” He asks, instantly forgetting that this isn’t his reality. He sprints towards the sound of his voice, shielding his face from the onslaught of snow and sleet as two figures come into view in front of him.

His own face stares back at him, Asgardian in form with his more familiar pale skin and calculated gaze. He has one arm raised up in the air, clasping Tony by the throat and holding him over the edge of an icy cliff.

“Why are you doing this?” Tony chokes out tearfully, addressing the Loki holding him by the neck. That version of himself doesn’t reply, lips slowly spreading into an animalistic grin as his grip tightens, Tony now thrashing in his hold, gasping for air.

“That’s not me,” Loki whispers hoarsely. He tries to step forward but feels like he’s moving through molasses. “Tony, that’s not me!”

The Other Him glances over, making eye contact before releasing his grip, Tony yelling out as he falls into the blackness below. He breaks free of whatever was holding him back, stumbling forward. Without hesitation or concern for what lies below, he leaps off the edge after him. “ _ Tony! _ ”

_ SLAM _ .

Loki blinks his eyes open. He’s laying on his back, the floor firm but cushioned beneath him. He glances over to his right, seeing Natasha kneeling next to him, Wanda pinned beneath her.

“I said that’s enough,” Natasha says, glare cutting between both of them.

“He tried it first,” Wanda mutters into the mat.

“I don’t care,” Natasha climbs off of her, offering a hand out for both of them. Wanda takes it while Loki ignores it, getting to his feet and brushing himself off whilst trying not to look as disoriented as he feels. “Hit the showers, both of you.”

He doesn’t exactly like being ordered around, but a long shower after having his mind invaded doesn’t seem like such a punishment. He walks a few paces behind Wanda, following her down a hallway and into a sectioned off locker room. He walks to the opposite end of it to give her privacy, banishing his clothes before stepping into the shower stall. While he normally prefers the cold, this time he turns the water as hot as it will go, and stands beneath the scalding spray until he stops shivering.

The gym is empty when he returns. He had taken his time, but surely their sparring session hadn’t ended so quickly?

A nearby door opens, Wanda poking her head inside. Her hair is still damp, pulled into a loose bun on the back of her head. “They’re out here,” she says before disappearing again, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Reluctantly, he rises to the bait and comes to stand outside, watching as two blurs go toe-to-toe at the bottom of the hill.

“Natasha doesn’t let Carol and Thor fight inside anymore,” Wanda explains flatly. “Not after what happened last time.”

Once they stop moving around long enough for Loki to actually focus, he can see that the fighters are indeed his brother and the same woman he had seen get the best of Thanos on the battlefield. She’s lost the ethereal glow she was enveloped in during that fight, but she’s still a fair match for Thor’s power.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda says, monotone lacking any remorse.

Loki’s gaze cuts sideways at the dry admission of guilt, crossing his arms. “No need to apologize. As you pointed out, I tried to do the same to you first.”

Wanda meets his eye, shrugging one shoulder. “Still. I shouldn’t have done that. I try not to do that anymore.”

“Why ever not?” Loki huffs. “Because you were told by all these good Samaritans that your abilities are  _ bad _ ?”

She wrinkles her nose, a line creasing between her brows. “It  _ is _ bad. I manipulated your mind. I found your deepest fears and insecurities and forced you to live through them—”

“I was your enemy. I deserved it. You shouldn’t feel guilt for using every ounce of power and magic you have to get the upper hand, even if your skills don’t align with the morally upstanding.”

She falls silent after that, expression thoughtful and conflicted. He turns back to watch the fight below, doing his best to appear indifferent as he peers at her through his periphery. Loki tries not to show his intrigue outright, but her abilities do fascinate him. “How were you able to block me from doing the same to you?”

She stares at him openly, not constrained by the same affectations. “I don’t know. I’m better than you, I guess.”

The statement is so blunt he can’t help but laugh. Wanda looks surprised, slightly parted lips twitching into a nervous smile before she lets out a soft laugh as well. “So you might be, Witch… at least in  _ some _ aspects,” He allows, not willing to admit that some mortal has more refined arcane abilities than he does as a centuries-old sorcerer. “Tony did tell me during the battle that you’re one of Earth’s best.”

“He did?” She asks, eyes owlish. “Oh.”

“Does that surprise you?”

She fiddles with a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Tony and I didn’t always get along… Actually, I hated him. I wanted him dead,” she admits, ears tipped red. “I was one of the people who disappeared with Thanos’ snap, but before that… Thanos killed someone very important to both of us. We weren’t able to bring him back, but Tony told me that he…” she swallows, clenching her jaw. He appreciates her efforts to not shed a tear, not knowing what he would do if she started  _ crying _ in front of him. “He tried to bring him back. It wasn’t going to work, and I think he knew that, but even so he  _ tried _ . And after I was brought back from the snap, he tried  _ again,  _ for me. It… It made me see him differently.”

Loki doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what kind of history she might have with him, but Loki has always seen Tony as he is: a selfless man. A man who carries out kind acts for no other reason other than the fact that they are kind and benefit people other than himself. Wanda’s story doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

“He’s important to you,” Wanda says, causing him to stiffen up. “I’m able to see it, you know, the things I do to people’s minds,” she sounds more apologetic this time, perhaps picking up on Loki’s apprehension. “I didn’t realize the two of you were close.”

“We’re not,” he denies, knowing how futile it is. Wanda saw his nightmare for herself, one that included his mother and brother seeing him for what he was— a disgusting, murderous, monster— and then Tony viewing him in that same light. His fear that he could never escape that version of himself, the one that had tried to snuff out such a brilliant light without thinking twice about it. To think that at some point he could’ve killed Tony and never felt the effects the man has had on him. “... Not anymore.”

“But you want to be,” Wanda pries. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

“ _ Here _ , at your headquarters, exactly where Tony isn’t?” Loki scoffs. “I’m here to keep Thor company, nothing more.”

“ _ Here _ as in New York, not hiding up in Norway,” she rolls her eyes. “Besides, you went to have dinner with him, didn’t you?”

His head snaps over. “You know about that?”

“Of course I do. Steve told Sam about it, and Sam’s the biggest gossip here,” she smirks. “Word travels fast. I’m pretty sure everyone knows about the courting attempt going on between you two at this point.”

“There is no  _ courting _ !” Loki says, affronted.

She flashes a dubious look. “Oh yeah? So you don’t have any plans to go see him? You’re just going to hang out around here  _ for Thor’s sake? _ ”

He doesn’t bother to dignify her needling with a response, or stick around to see the victor of the match going on below. He turns on his heel with a huff of annoyance, ignoring the chuckling behind him as he walks away.  
  
  


* * *

Stubbornly, Loki waits until the following week to turn up at Tony’s cabin again. If anything, it’s for the pride in pursuing this wild idea on his own accord, and that Thor and Wanda’s knowing glances and smirks back at the compound have nothing to do with it.

He’s more cautious this time, sitting in his car with the window rolled down, listening for any movement inside the house. It’s completely still. When he lets his eyes glaze over red and views the premises with a Jotunn’s sense, he gets a read on a single heat signature from the garage near the tree line.

“Dum-E, how many times do I have to tell you— No, U, not you— to get  _ behind _ the line.  _ Be-hind _ . Look at your brother! He’s gotten his arm blown off enough time to know what’s up, and if you end up in a bunch of pieces I’m just going to leave it to him to put you back together. Ah, that’s right,  _ now _ you listen to me.”

Loki opens the garage door to a curious sight, and that comes from someone who’s seen many curious sights over several hundreds of years. Tony is crouched down behind an overturned bench, accompanied by two run-down looking robot arms who are decorated in glittery stickers and tinsel. All the contents of the garage have been haphazardly pushed to the sides of the room, the center blocked off with a square of blue tape on the floor. There are two hunks of raw metal tied up haphazardly, rigged through some kind of pulley system connected to a trigger that Tony’s holding in one hand.

The one human and two robotic heads turn to face him when he walks in, Tony blinking in surprise. “Loki,” he pushes tinted safety goggles to the top of his head, hair sticking up beneath them. “Uh, hey.”

“This is what retirement has done to you? Turned you into the mad scientist from  _ Back to the Future _ ?”

Tony’s eyes widen slightly. “Did you just make an 80s movie reference? How do you even know what  _ Back to the Future _ is?”

“I  _ have _ been on Earth for almost a year now, I didn’t just sit around not attempting to do a little culture catch-up,” Loki rolls his eyes, walking around to stand behind the makeshift barrier with them but making no move to crouch down behind it. He can hardly look dignified while in a  _ crouch _ . “What in Baldur’s name are you doing?”

“Testing some new materials,” Tony carefully winds up the pulley system from whatever he was about to do, both metal rocks lowered to the ground. “A shipment of Vibranium just came in from Wakanda and I wanted to see how it stands up against the Svartalfheim steel that Thor brought me a few months ago. Thought I’d run some tests before Shuri stops in next month.”

Loki decides not to pass judgement on the very ramshackle way Tony is going about his supposed “testing”, glancing around the garage. The thing is bigger than one would expect, rivaling the size of the house minus the extra floors. He can see a sectioned off area behind some rotating glass doors where a few cars are parked, this half of the building looking more like a madman’s workshop.

A chime comes from Tony’s watch, Friday’s voice coming over the speakers in the room.  _ “It’s two forty-five, Boss. With traffic you’ll probably want to leave now so you don’t get held up.” _

“Ah, shit, you’re right. Thanks for the reminder, Fri,” Tony whips the goggles off the top of his head and jumps to his feet. He grabs a sweatshirt off the back of a nearby workbench, pulling it on over his head. “I’ve gotta go pick up Morgan from school,” comes his muffled voice from behind the fabric. His hair sticks up with static once the woolen material is pulled down over his head, staring at Loki for a beat. “Do you, uh, want to come with?”

Loki slowly lifts an eyebrow, ignoring the robots that have seemed to take interest in him inching closer. “To collect your progeny from a place full of other loud, annoying spawn?”

“Hey, didn’t you just come from HQ? Thought you’d be used to loud, annoying spawn,” Tony snorts before grabbing a set of keys off a hook by the door, heading out of the garage without even bothering to wait for Loki’s answer.

He trails after the man with a sustained sigh, hands curled into annoyed fists at his sides. “Considering what a hassle it is to come all the way out here, I suppose accompanying you on this little errand to grant me a few moments of your time will be worth it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony grins at him before pressing a button on the key fob. Rather than one of the flashy, sports cars blinking its headlights and swinging it’s doors upwards, a white SUV beeps instead. Tony has the gall to walk around to the passenger door and open it for him as if he’s incapable of doing so himself. “After you.”

Loki sighs and gets into the passenger seat, noticing the nice leather interior, the vehicle still luxurious despite not being as ostentatious as Tony’s other cars. There’s a booster seat strapped in behind them as well as more evidence of the little one littered around the car— a children’s book here, an extra jacket and pair of shoes there, snack foods and entertaining games on the floor behind his seat. He finds a stuffed rabbit underneath his foot, promptly flinging it into the back of the car as Tony hops in beside him.

They drive with the windows down, Tony’s arm relaxed as it hangs out of the car as they cruise along the road, tapping along with the rock music playing over the speakers. Inappropriate conditions for the end-of-Summer weather outside, not that Loki would ever complain about the cold. Tony seems just as unbothered by the slight chill to the wind that flows into the car, the smile lines around his eyes barely visible behind yellow-tinted spectacles.

“I just love the air out here,” he says after a few moments of silently driving down the winding, desolate country road. “I’ve lived in big cities my entire life, I forgot what the real world smelled like.”

Loki does have to admit that he prefers the air out here, the stench of humans and all the muck they bring with them less concentrated out where Tony resides. “I wouldn’t think it suited you,” he admits. The only context he’s ever had for Tony is the small amount of research he had done on all the Avengers back when they posed a possible threat. The man had been so suave, so quick-witted and loud-mouthed, his very existence boasting exorbitance. Hero of the people, charming billionaire, culture influencer. A quaint life out in a cabin in the woods somehow didn’t seem to be a fitting frame for a picture of such opulence.

“I didn’t think it would either,” Tony shrugs. “Guess this is my mid-life crisis. I think I did it in reverse though.”

Loki eyes the exposed skin of his outstretched forearm, hand resting on the steering wheel. The ring of alabaster is still there, clear as day, if anything, more pronounced after what Loki assumes were several days spent basking in the Summer sun. Mid-life. What a strange concept.

He supposes there’s many strange concepts about Tony he has yet to fully understand.

Loki stares out the window, watching the trees and houses pass by as they come to a more residential but still quiet area. They roll down the streets slowly, stopping at every other intersection and allowing Loki plenty of time to see the people walking by on the sidewalks. Some of them have children, or pets, some of them are alone, running or jogging with headphones in. They pass by parks and restaurants and shops, eventually coming to a large building with an abundance of busses and cars, the sound of children squealing and chattering rising up in a distant clamor.

The tinted windows of the car are rolled up as they slowly progress through a line of cars, Tony pulling up to a loop beside the exit doors of the building where several adults are herding children to the proper cars. He picks Morgan’s bright grin out of the sea of juvenile faces, the girl bursting forth with excitement, bright purple backpack flapping off of one shoulder as she breaks for the car in a mad dash. Tony barely gets out of the car and gets the back door open before she launches herself off the curb like a rocket, landing in the backseat with a loud “oof!”, knocking her booster chair slightly out of place as she does so.

“And she sticks the landing!” Tony announces proudly before getting back into the car, twisting around in his seat. “Need help with the buckle?”

“No, I got it,” she huffs, tiny hands struggling with the strap for a moment until there’s a satisfying click. She looks up, suddenly locking eyes with Loki. “Oh, Mr. Loki is here too!”

“Uh, yeah, is that okay?” Tony asks, Loki surprised that the man actually sounds  _ hesitant _ , as if seeking approval from a toddler. He realizes, belatedly, that perhaps that’s quite reasonable of a parent.

“Uh, yeah…” she echoes, giving her dad a strange look. “Is it not okay?”

“No— I mean, yes,” he sighs and turns back around in his seat, slowly pulling away from the curb. “How was school?”

The child dismisses her father’s strange behavior and launches into a nonsensical story about her day, Loki unable to tell actual events from the tangents she breaks off on: asking her father if he knows how to yo-yo and can teach her, wondering when she’s going to be taught things in school she doesn’t already know, and a story about a pet alpaca (that Loki can’t deduce whether or not it’s imaginary based on the way Tony comments on “Gerald”’s behavior).

Morgan flings herself out of the car the moment Tony is able to unbuckle her, racing up to the house and greeting Friday as the door swings open for her.

“She’s a quick one,” Loki comments airily.

“She has important places to be,” Tony shrugs, following after her. He leans on the wooden banister, shouting up the stairs. “Hey, Missy! Bring your homework down here, we gotta get it all done before soccer!”

Loki diverts from Tony as the man walks into the kitchen, taking his time to peruse the house since he didn’t get the opportunity last time he was here. It’s rustic and warm feeling, decorated in earthy tones and cozy furniture and rugs that fit with the outdoorsy aesthetic of the exposed wooden beams and the view outside. Exquisite paintings and family photos coexist on the walls together, Loki drifting through the formal living room into what he presumes is Tony’s home office. There’s a large light table in the center of the room, a few files and projects idle and on display. Loki swipes curiously through a few of them, recognizing Tony’s chicken scratch in the notations along the sides and corners of digital blueprints. There’s a collection of used coffee mugs and half-eaten bags of snacks littered about, Loki peeking over Tony’s desk to see it littered with glittery decorations made of colorful paper and clay.

He finds a few sticky notes placed in odd places both inside the office as well as deeper into the house as he ventures to the back den and the screened in sunroom. The handwriting scrawled on the scraps of paper is somehow even worse than Tony’s, the spelling and grammar atrocious.

_ dad, did you know you need 7-9 hours to sleep? I am a kid so i need more but i dont think you get that much. mom should start giving you a bed time to —M _

_ mom, i have trained gerald to let me ride him. you can not be cause you are too big. we will be instoppable. hes a good boy. —M _

_ dad, you are bad at making brekfest but good at eating it and if you dont eat you will die. —M _

_ mom, i think dad spilld spagety sauce on my carpet in my room. dont ask him about it i think he is imbarassd but it was him surely —M _

Had he not known the little notes come from a seemingly innocent child, some of them have an inexplicably threatening air about them. Maybe she’s more interesting than he assumed.

The bottom floor of the cabin is fairly open, a continuous loop that has Loki wandering into the kitchen once he’s done poking around the bookshelves lining the walls. Tony is at the kitchen island chopping up fruits, cheeses, and bread, a pot simmering behind him with the smell of fresh tomatoes filling the kitchen.

He walks in to the tyke caught in mid-groan, her chin in her hands as she glares down at the papers in front of her. “I hate math.”

“You don’t hate math,” Tony chides. “You use math all the time without even knowing it. Math is important. You and I did lots of math to be able to build Butterfingers.”

She sighs, gently jabbing the eraser end of her pencil into the counter. “Yeah, but you did all the boring parts. I just did the fun parts.”

“What is Butterfingers?” Loki asks, circling around the kitchen to peer at the stovetop. The pot is bubbling with a rich red liquid, mostly tomato with bits of other vegetables and spices floating in it. There's a skillet next to it on a low simmer, butter sizzling in the pan.

“My robot!” Morgan announces proudly. “He’s up in my room! Loki, do you wanna come see—”

“Ah, ah, not until homework is done,” Tony says, pointing the knife in his hand in their direction. His eyes jump over to Loki, twinkling with an idea. “Why don’t you have Loki help you out, kiddo? He’s great at math.”

Loki doesn’t bother to temper the grin he shoots Tony’s way, poking him in the sensitive part of his lumbar as he passes by. “Why would I waste my time doing children’s math equations?”

“What he said!” Morgan grumbles in enthused agreement.

Tony shoots them both a reproachful look. “Unless you’d like to be my sous-chef, Loki? Grilled cheese and tomato soup, some fine Midgardian cuisine that I’m sure you’re  _ very _ familiar with.”

“How about I help with neither and continue to relish in the bickering?” Loki suggests, reaching around Tony’s elbow to grab a piece of sliced mango from the cutting board, narrowly avoiding a slap on the wrist.

Morgan rises up on her knees from where she’s sitting in her chair, placing her hands on the counter. “Dad, I have a prosper-tition—”

“Proposition. If you’re going to use words you don’t know the meaning to, at least  _ sound _ like you do. It’s what I do.”

“ _ Pro-po-si-tion _ ,” Morgan corrects carefully, sounding out the syllables. “ _ I _ will be Susan chef, and Loki can do my homework since he’s so good at math.”

“Counter-offer: no one is Susan chef, Loki will  _ help _ you with a few math problems, and you’ll be grateful your dad is cooking you a nice after-school meal and isn’t making you scrounge for worms down by the docks,” he wipes his hands off on the towel flung over one shoulder, tossing two slices of bread into the greased up frying pan on the stovetop behind him.

She steeples her fingers together and taps them against her chin as if she’s impersonating behavior of a mob boss she’s seen in a movie. “Throw in two extra scoops of ice cream before bed?”

“One,” Tony amends, walking over to the counter and offering a hand. “Do we have a deal, Ms. Stark?”

She sighs and lays her upper body across the counter to be able to reach him, tiny hand clasped firmly in her father’s. “Deal,” she mumbles morosely.

“Pleasure doing business, as always,” Tony flashes Loki a quick smile before going back to the stove.

Morgan is staring at him expectantly, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes she inherited from her father’s gene pool at him while she pushes her papers across the polished countertop. He sighs and takes up the seat next to her, plucking an extra pencil from her rainbow-striped case as he eyes the nefarious homework.

It looks less like math and more like English. She explains them to be something called “word problems”, which just sound like a more tedious way of keeping children occupied under the guise of education.

“Did you have to do word problems?” Morgan asks through a pout after solving an entire two problems about how many peaches Sally could buy at the market and how many she’ll be able to share with her friends. “When you were in first grade?”

“I don’t know what first grade is,” Loki murmured. “The things I learned as a child were far more interesting than this.”

“That isn’t more talk about how not fun school is to my impressionable young daughter, is it?” Tony calls over the sound of bread and cheese sizzling in the cast iron.

“No,” Loki and Morgan both answer in unison, the smaller of the two giggling behind her hand.

Morgan leans conspiratorially closer, word problems all but forgotten. “What kind of things did you learn?”

“Do you really want to know?” Loki asks lowly, worried the little thing’s head will fall off her shoulders with the ferocity of her nodding. “I learned  _ magic _ .”

Her eyes widen. “Like Uncle Scott? He’s the best magician I know!”

Scott— Ah, the master of none. The Can’t-Man. “Better than your Uncle Scott.”

“Really?” She smiles, brown eyes sparkling. “Can you show me?”

Loki glances over into the kitchen, his eyes meeting Tony’s. The man is smiling at them fondly, winking at Loki before he goes about pouring the soup into bowls and plating their sandwiches. Loki can’t help but continue to watch him, gaze quickly dropping back to the paper when Tony looks up and catches him staring. “Maybe after we finish a few more problems, hm?”

They’re served what Loki expects to be plain peasant food— Three entire ingredients? How could melted cheese on toast dipped in a tomato sauce be? The answer is very good, and possibly the best thing Loki’s ever tasted for the first time. Tony pulls up a chair next to them at the counter rather than relocate to the proper dining room, sliding Morgan’s stapled packet over to him as he trims the crusts off her sandwich. Loki happily lets him take over homework duties, sitting back and watching the frustration slowly leak out of Morgan at her father’s patient and teasing instructions, the girl beaming proudly by the time every blank has been filled.

“Alright, go get changed for practice. Do you remember where you left your cleats?”

“Front porch!” She calls over her shoulder, rushing up the stairs on all fours.

Tony smiles as he stares up after her, hearing her heavy footfalls thundering about her room upstairs. “Thanks for the assist,” he remarks with a smirk, passing by Loki to open the screen door leading to the wraparound porch. “Didn’t know you were so good with kids.”

“If you think tolerating her inane questions is  _ good _ , then your standards are horribly low. What kind of a parent are you?” Loki asks with a roll of his eyes, following after him and leaning against the side of the house.

Tony scoops up a pair of mud-stained, bright orange cleats and a soccer ball off the ground, unknotting the laces with one hand. “It’s okay, you can admit she’s the most charming and likable kid in the world. It’s impossible not to get along with her.”

“Yes, it’s almost annoying how much she reminds me of someone I know,” Loki murmurs.

Tony meets his eyes for a moment and he can sense the  _ yearning _ there, the look he always gets when there’s something on the edge of his tongue just waiting to escape. “Loki—”

A car horn honks behind them, another SUV slowly rolling up the drive towards them. Tony raises a hand in a wave as Pepper gets out of the car, a juxtaposition of a CEO in a pencil skirt and heels walking up a dirt driveway in the middle of nowhere. The interruption is just another nuisance, Loki’s mood turning even more sour when he watches the smile on Pepper’s face fall when her eyes fall on him.

“Morguna, how long does it take to put on shin guards?” Tony calls back through the open door. “Hey, Pep.”

Pepper doesn’t take her eyes off Loki as she walks up the steps, slipping off her heels. Like clockwork, Tony scoops up a pair of tennis shoes by the side of the door, passing them over to her. “Hi. Loki, I didn’t know you would be here this afternoon.”

Her tone is pleasant, not at all as icy as his returned, “I could say the same.”

“Well, it is my house.”

“I didn’t come here to see you, though.”

“Okay!” Tony claps his hands together. “Now’s not the time for  _ whatever this is. _ ”

“Yes, I was just leaving actually,” Loki stands up straight, brushing his hair behind one ear.

“You were?” Tony asks, voice colored with what Loki would foolishly hope is disappointment. “Pepper is going to take Morgan if you wanted to stay a bit longer—”

“That eager to get rid of us?” Pepper asks with a lilt to her voice Loki can’t quite pin down just yet. It toes the line of familiar ribbing and undercutting judgement.

“Of course not—”

“Ready!” Morgan announces, socked feet still somehow loud as she bounds down the stairs and flies out the door, Tony catching her by the back of the jersey before she can get too far. He kneels down and helps her into her shoes, tying the laces on one foot while letting her figure out the other on her own. Morgan looks up at Loki once she’s finished with the lopsided double-knot. “Is Mr. Loki coming to my practice too?”

“Too?” Pepper presses, looking to Tony now.

“Yeah, he came with Daddy to pick me up from school,” Morgan answers, unfortunate martyrdom unbeknownst to her.

“Did he now?” Pepper asks, voice becoming more clipped by the second. She glances between the two of them, accepting her daughter’s outstretched hand. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Except the part where Daddy made me eat worms from the backyard.”

Tony shrugs, hands in his pockets. “To be fair, we were all out of mice.”

“Perfectly reasonable,” Pepper agrees with a smirk.

And just like that, Loki’s been forgotten.

“As I said, I was just leaving,” he clears his throat, the happy family’s eyes all cutting over to him as he makes his way down the steps.

Tony takes an instinctive step after him before seeming to remember himself, gripping the banister. “I’ll call you,” he says, lowering his voice pointlessly as Pepper is standing two feet away from him.

“You don’t have my number,” Loki points out without turning around.

“I’ll guess, then,” Tony says, smile clear in his voice.

He hears Morgan’s stomping gait come down the stairs, thankfully stopping on the last step as she shouts out after him. “Bye, Mr. Loki! Thanks for helping me today! I hope you show me magic tricks next time you come over!”

He doesn’t answer her as he gets into the car, waiting to look back until he’s sufficiently hidden by tinted windows. Morgan is still waving enthusiastically at him, Pepper sitting down on the steps behind her so she can pull her daughter’s hair into a ponytail on the crown of her head. Even as Loki drives away, the house growing smaller and smaller behind him, he chances one look into the rear view mirror to see Tony still rooted to that same spot, staring after him.

He had seen a different side of the man today, one he had seen echoes of during their intergalactic travels, and yet one he couldn’t picture up until now. He had been so dismissive of his desire to get back to his family before. This was the Iron Man he had cajoled into being on his side, after all. Earth’s Mightiest Hero… a domestic and doting father who tinkers away in his garage with his sticker-covered robots and cuts perfect triangles out of grilled cheeses and helps tie a tiny human’s shoes every day.

Same picture, new frame. Now, it's up to Loki to figure out where he fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait on this chapter! I got carried away and ended up writing way too much and had to bump a couple scenes to the next chapter so I don't keep slamming 10k onto you guys with each update lol.
> 
> If you see the chapters bump up from 12 to 13 within the next update or two mind ya business


	11. The Only One You Get

Loki spends the next few days drifting around the Avengers campus, peering into the offices that house the new intelligence team, snooping around the living quarters, and attending but not participating in a few more training exercises. It’s an impressive operation, their ranks growing considerably since the Battle of Earth, more allies than ever taking up arms with them. They’ve come a long way from the core group of six beneath the one-eyed Fury’s care that Loki had encountered and studied all those years ago. If world domination had been in the cards back then, it certainly isn’t now.

Exactly as promised, mere hours after he had left Tony’s, he received a text message from the man himself. He still refuses to believe the story that Tony deduced his number by sheer willpower alone, knowing Thor probably gave it up in an instant. He ends up corresponding with Tony more than he likes to admit throughout the day, casual small talk with an undertone of waiting for the other person to make the next move. Loki doesn’t like stand-offs, and he certainly isn’t fond of one with emotional stake.

His usual haunts are eerily empty by the end of the week, not a hero in sight as he wanders about. After finding even Thor’s room empty (and a mess as usual), he stops by his brother’s second favorite location— The kitchen.

There’s a single figure sitting on a barstool, swiveling slightly from side to side. She glances up when he walks in, flipping a page of a magazine laying open on the counter. “Hey, Loki.”

“Wanda. Where is everyone?”

“Recon mission. There’s some leftover seeds from HYDRA that we’re trying to make sure don’t get fully planted, I guess,” she shrugs, uninterested, chin in her palm as she peruses the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. 

Loki raises a brow. “And you haven’t gone with them? Your powers seem like they could be well suited for intelligence gathering.”

“I haven’t been  _ approved for field work _ yet. I’m apparently still too  _ volatile _ for possible civilian encounters,” she rolls her eyes.

“They would see it that way,” Loki scoffs under his breath. If he were still hellbent on the demise of Earth, he would scoop Wanda right out from under their noses and recruit her for his own causes. At the very least, he’d know how to appreciate her powers for what they are and push her to her full potential, the fears of others be damned. Unfortunately, it’s hard to want to destroy a society when the man you’re so drawn to literally laid his life on the line to protect it.

“Anyways, more important matters at hand, how goes the courting?” Wanda asks, finally deciding on a shiny red apple as her mid-morning snack.

The sudden subject change makes him worry Wanda’s somehow intruded on his mind undetected. Perhaps he’s more transparent than that. “I am not  _ courting _ ,” Loki sighs as he walks over to one of the leather sofas, collapsing down onto his back and stretching his legs out in a not-at-all-dramatic fashion.

“Well, duh.  _ You’re _ the one being courted, obviously,” she tucks the magazine under one arm, crossing the room to perch on the arm of the couch his head is resting on. Loki’s phone pings at that very moment, a text from Tony, coming an hour or so after Loki had initially texted him that morning. “Who’s that?” She asks innocently.

He angles his phone away from Wanda before swiping over to his messages, knowing that’s as much an admission of guilt as her actually seeing the message.

_ (9:38 AM)  _ ** _Loki_ **

_ What are your plans today? _

_ (11:02 AM)  _ ** _Tony_ **

_ Just got back from Mo’s soccer game. _

_ Gonna get washed up before taking her to a cider mill. _

_ (11:03 AM)  _ ** _Loki_ **

_ What’s a cider mill? _

Loki doesn’t get the chance to do further research when his phone is suddenly ringing. He ignores the satisfied sounding crunch from beside him as he hauls himself off the couch and quickly walks out of the room, only answering once he has a bit more privacy.

_ “You’ve never been to a cider mill?”  _ Tony asks the moment he picks up.

“Hello to you too, Tony.”

_ “Hi. You’ve never been to a cider mill.” _

“Yes, I think we’ve established that by now.”

_ “Well… Erm...” _ There’s a moment of hesitation on the line, Tony not usually one to get tongue-tied.  _ “How about… I mean, if you want… Maybe you come with us today.” _

“To this  _ cider mill _ .”

_ “Yes.” _

“Who is us?” He asks skeptically.

_ “Just me and Morgan.” _

Ah, the nice way of saying  _ No Pepper _ . “I don’t usually agree to something that I have no details about, Anthony.”

A sigh. “_It’s just, like, a place people go to this time of year to enjoy nature, you know, the leaves changing and sweater weather and all that. It’s on a nice farm, you get to walk around outside, maybe see some animals, drink hot cider and eat sugar donuts— I don’t know, Loki_— Fall Shit_, okay?_”

“Your description is not very compelling,” Loki points out. “But I suppose engaging in some more Midgardian practices isn’t the worst way to spend my day.”

_ “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, just come over ASAP. Little Miss is not a paragon of patience.” _

“Hm, I wonder where she gets it from.”

_ “Fuck off. See you soon.” _

Loki hangs up the phone, staring at it for a moment before he walks back into the living room. Wanda looks at him expectantly over a magazine she’s plucked off the coffee table. “Do you have a date?”

He scoffs. “It’s not a date.”

“And why not?”

“I’m pretty sure a date would constitute the two of us alone, doing something at least vaguely romantic. His little spawn is accompanying us, and I’m pretty sure we’re going to some kind of  _ farm _ ,” he wrinkles his nose in distaste, wondering if he needs to change out of his Italian leather shoes.

“Um, he’s letting you crash plans he had with just his daughter? I’m pretty sure in Single Dad World, that’s totally a date,” she sits up a little straighter. “I mean, think about it. Morgan’s, like, the most important thing to him in the universe. Him trusting you to hang out with her, maybe even be alone with her, is a pretty big step.”

Loki decides not to indulge the fact that it won’t be the first time he’s spending time with Stark Mini. “Even if this was a  _ date _ — Which it is most certainly not— I wouldn’t even know what Tony is expecting of me.” He summons his coat off the back of the couch as he strides past. “Your Midgardian customs for these types of things make no sense.”

She doesn’t glance up from her magazine as he makes his exit. “Maybe not dressing like you’re going to a funeral is a good start.”

“There is  _ nothing _ wrong with the way I dress!”

That being said, Loki does decide to add a bit more color and a bit less formality in his attire before he shows up to Tony’s. He’s transforms his all black clothing, fitting himself in a pair of dark jeans, long legs complemented by the slim fit style Midgardian trousers skew towards in this age, as well as a deep green, cable knit sweater, and a long scarf draped around his neck to complement it. He transforms the color of his black, knee-length coat to a warm brown instead, checking his appearance in the reflection of his car window before he approaches the cabin.

Much like the first time he came to the house, Morgan is the one to answer the door. Her hair is in pigtail braids today, peeking out from underneath a fuzzy blue hat with matching mittens hanging from a tie around one wrist. “You came!” She grins, so overwhelmed with joy that she throws herself at his legs, hugging the backs of his knees.

“Er, yes,” he stands stiffly, hands floating uselessly in the air as he tries to navigate the most polite way to detach himself. “How was your match?”

“We lost, but I scored two goals so it’s okay!” She says in a chipper tone, finally releasing his legs only to grab his hand and lead him into the house. “Our downfall is our defense. Jackson Arpoca and Lily Chesterfield just aren’t cutting it, but Coach Henslaw doesn’t like it when I point out the flaws in his game plan, like putting me as a left forward when I’d be  _ much _ more useful as a center with my passing skills.”

“Right,” Loki agrees, not really understanding anything the six year-old is saying as far as the Midgardian sport goes. He follows her into the back den, Morgan eventually releasing him to plop onto the couch upside-down as she grabs a Rubik’s Cube off the coffee table and starts fiddling with it. “Where is your father?”

Bright orange galoshes kick back and forth in the air, thudding against the back of the couch. “Upstairs. I think he’s changing his clothes again. He tried on, like, four different shirts already.”

Loki can’t help but smirk, tilting an ear towards the ceiling to listen for any movement. He hears a faint, disgruntled grumbling and some shuffling of hangers. “I better go rush him along then. Sit upright before all the blood rushes to your head,” he calls over one shoulder, heading up the stairwell.

He follows the sound of movement to the master bedroom, the double doors open by a crack. Loki has the decency to knock but lacks the patience for it to have meaning, swinging the door open as he raps his knuckles against it. “Hello? Looking for the leader of the homestead, here.”

“She’s downstairs,” comes a reply from around the corner, Tony stepping out of a huge closet as he pulls an unfairly soft looking, cream-colored sweater over his head. He runs a hand through his hair, giving Loki a once over with raised eyebrows. “Wow, you look… nice.”

Loki crosses his arms. “Yes, well, apparently my fashion sense is a little too dour for what you Midgardians tend to wear.”

“Well,  _ I _ like the way you dress,” Tony says, all too charitable as he crosses the bedroom. “But I will admit that this is a nice change,” he added appreciatively.

He doesn’t get the opportunity to snoop around Tony’s bedroom, quickly ushered out by the other man as he snatches a scarf off the foot of the bed and closes the doors behind him. 

“Sorry about the wait, got a little grass-stained at the game and needed to change.”

“Mmhm,” Loki replies, deciding not to mention his offspring having already sold him down the river. “You should get your parenting priorities in check. Your spawn can build robots and talk sports analysis but doesn’t know how to sit in a chair properly.”

Tony shrugs, tromping down the stairs in front of him. “She’s got the important stuff down.”

The Rubik’s Cube is solved when they return to the living room, Morgan no longer in danger of postural hypotension as she’s now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Tony doesn’t break stride, heading straight for the coat hanger by the front door. “You ready to go, Short Stack?”

“Yeah!” She calls out excitedly, bounding after them. “Let’s go do fall shit!”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Tony chides with no real heat, holding out a garishly  _ red _ little girl’s coat.

“You said it earlier on the phone!” She claims, slipping her arms into the sleeves and lifting her chin so Tony can do up the big, silver buttons.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t repeat everything you hear, you Parrot,” he sighs, ruffling her hair.

“Or else Mommy will kill you and then who will I have to teach me bad words?” She sighs gravely, clutching her forehead as she grabs the door handle and hangs off of it dramatically. “I shall indeed miss you when you’re gone, Papa!”

“Alright, you’ve been watching too much  _ Downton Abbey _ with Uncle Happy. Let’s go,” Tony sighs, shooing her out the door and throwing an exhausted look back towards Loki.

They drive further out into the country, Morgan chattering away in the backseat and asking Loki all sorts of questions about his magic and his abilities. (“A demonstration will have to come later, as I don’t think your father would appreciate damage to his nice leather interior.”) But they eventually reach their destination, exactly as Tony described it. It’s rather crowded, as to be expected for the perfect fall weather outside, enough chill to call for scarves and gloves, while the sky is also bright blue and cloudless, allowing for plenty of sun to shine down into the valley.

They walk alongside plenty of other mortals through the big wooden gate, Loki seeing a few different barns, one of which has all the doors and windows wide open and is emanating an intoxicating aroma of apple cider, cinnamon, and sugar pastries. The line is long and fast moving, patrons leaving with steaming cups and paper bags in their hands, beaming smiles on their faces.

“Alright, kiddo, you wanna wait in line with me, or—”

“Playground!” Morgan interrupts, immediately tearing off and weaving through the crowds of families walking around, pigtails bouncing beneath her knitted cap. Loki can see a huge wooden jungle gym past a large pavilion of picnic tables, another barn past that which looks to be the  _ petting zoo _ Tony had mentioned.

Tony sighs. “You mind keeping track of her? I’ll jump in line and get us all the good, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yes, your hyper little goblin will be safe in my hands,” Loki drawls, able to catch glimpses of that beacon of a jacket through the crowd.

“Thank you,” Tony surprises him then, reaching out to grab his hand for a quick squeeze. It sends a slight jolt through him, even through the fabric of both their gloves. “It’ll be just a few minutes, promise.”

Loki just nods and watches him go, quickly taking up his end of the bargain and following after the little girl, thankful that the crowd begins to thin out further away from the entrance.

He finds an unoccupied bench on the perimeter of the playground, waving his hand to quickly banish any unwanted grime or liquid that he refuses to sit upon and ruin a perfectly good coat. Legs crossed, he tracks Morgan as she runs about, socializing easily with the other children as she joins in with their games, or breaks off on her own to explore the big wooden castle or hanging rope swings.

The shrieking of the children grates his nerves, Loki doing his best to tune them out alongside the whining and arguing parents nearby, nagging at their children. Gods, they’re truly horrendous. Was he ever this shrill and offensive as a child?

Morgan comes skipping over to him after some time spent spinning other children around on some sort of metal dias (was that sort of dizzying experience seen as  _ fun _ by Midgardian youths?), all flushed cheeks and hair in a disarray, one of her braids having come completely loose and the other holding on for dear life.

“You look as if you’ve been hit by a bus,” Loki deadpans.

“You should see the bus,” she replies before plopping down tiredly on the bench next to him.

He sighs and plucks her hat off her head. “Well we can’t have you walking around looking as if your parents allow you to be mauled by wolves. Budge up, let me fix your hair.”

She turns skeptical eyes on him. “You know how to braid hair?”

“Yes, turn around,” he nudges her, turning to the side so he can pull all of her hair back behind her, combing his fingers through the tangles.

“My daddy doesn’t know how. All he can do is a lopsided ponytail. He always asks the other moms to do my hair at soccer if Momma isn’t around to do it,” Morgan says, turning back to look at him. “How did you learn? I thought all boys were useless at doing hair. Is it because yours is long and pretty?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Dear. Now sit  _ still _ ,” Loki plants a hand on the very top of her head, turning it back to face forward. “To answer your question, it’s very common for my people to wear their hair in many styles of braids, regardless of gender. It’s sort of seen as a status symbol. I learned how to braid my own hair growing up and frequently braided my brother’s as well as the hair of his warrior friends.”

“Your people,” Morgan echoes, beginning to turn again until she remembers Loki’s instruction and keeps her head forward, sitting ramrod straight with her legs tucked against her. “Magic people?” She asks lowering her voice into a whisper. “Are you different like Auntie Carol? Can you fly?”

“I cannot fly, but I am different,” Loki explains, conjuring a few additional hair ties so he can pull her hair into two French braids on either side of her skull. He has to remember that no matter how bright the child can be, she is still a child at the end of the day... Albeit, a child whose parents keep company with all sorts of supercharged humans and non-humans alike. “I do come from a different…  _ planet _ . It was called Asgard, but it is gone now, so I live here on Earth.”

“Was your planet really different?”

“Remarkably,” Loki chuckles, fingers working easily at her soft, chocolate waves, a motion practiced a thousand times over. “But there are many similarities as well… Have your parents ever read you fantasy books? Ones with dragons and monsters and castles?”

“Yes, I love those stories!” She beams, shifting excitedly before she remembers to be still again.

“Well, the place I came from was a lot like that. It wasn’t quite as idealized as your little Midgardian fairy tales make it out to be, but…” he trails off, remembering his audience. He finishes twining together the two plaits into a single one that runs down her back, tying it off with a little pink hair elastic. “...It was like that.”

Hair now back in order, she whirls around to face him, excitement in her eyes. “Did you know any princesses? Princess stories are my favorites.”

Loki taps his chin. “Well, our kingdom didn’t have any princesses, a few nobleborn daughters here and there, duchesses, baronesses… we did however have two  _ princes _ . My brother and I.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you for real?”

“Yes, although we no longer hold those titles. We do have a Queen now though who takes care of all of us now that we’re here on Earth.”

“Wow,” she breathes. “Can I come meet your Queen?”

“Well, she’s rather far away and very busy, but maybe we ask your father at a later date, hm?” He doesn’t mean the question as anything more serious than a way to placate a wistful child, but the idea of bringing Tony back to his home in New Asgard… his chest gives way to an unfamiliar tug on his heart.

She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yes, please! Thank you for fixing my hair, Mr. Loki. You do it even better than my Momma,” she delicately runs her hands along the dual plaits, feeling the braided strands.

“Just Loki is fine,” he sighs, turning to look back towards the main barn for any sign of Tony. Like an instinctive attraction, he’s able to spot him through the crowd, emerging from the barn with a drink carrier balanced carefully on one arm, big paper bags bunched up in both hands. He raises a hand when he locks eyes with Loki, nodding towards the tables.

They’re able to snag a table perfectly sized for the three of them, Morgan practically bowling over a pair of toddlers in her haste to claim their territory. “Daddy, Daddy, look at my hair! Loki did it for me, isn’t it pretty?” She asks excitedly, pulling the braid over one shoulder.

“Wow, it sure is, Squirt!” Tony grins at her, setting down his armful of treats on the table. He runs a hand over the top of her head, smiling over at Loki. “Having fun turning my daughter into Daenerys?”

“I only vaguely understand that reference,” Loki drawls, feigning indifference to the child’s praise as he sits down at the table. It’s impossible to ignore the fondness Tony is staring at him with, charmed by the fact that the two of them are apparently getting along.

The doughnuts are admittedly delicious, the bread spongey and soft and covered with the perfect amount of cinnamon and sugar without being overwhelmingly sweet. He forgoes the mess that is eating a candied apple, watching as Morgan’s face and hands get immediately covered with the stringy caramel, Tony barely managing to shuck off her coat and save the hideous garment in time (a shame, really). He enjoys the hot cup of cider, bewildered by the fact that it also comes in the form of something called a slushie, which Loki learns is exactly what it sounds like and is just the same drink but served cold and in ice slush form. Morgan prefers it that way, despite the fact that it’s not exactly appropriate for the weather, her teeth chattering and lips slightly blue by the time she gets to the bottom of the cup. Tony follows up with a simple hot chocolate to warm her back up, sharing an affectionate eye roll with Loki over his daughter’s oddities.

Bellies warm and sated, they migrate from the tables over to the petting zoo where Morgan goes around and kindly meets and reviews each animal, rating them on a scale from Zero-to-Gerald. One goat with big curled horns and black and white splotches comes close, but none of the other chickens, calves, or llamas can even compare.

Tony suggests a nature walk along the trail that leads around the large lake on the property, a few ducks and geese milling around before their habitat freezes over for the Winter. Morgan saved a few breadcrumbs from their pie slices for this very purpose, running down to the edge of the shore and giggling as she soon as a devoted flock begins waddling after her, hungry for her scraps.

Leaves fall overhead, only a few errant patches of green left as most of the foliage changes into varying shades of flame. The three of them walk altogether, chatting idly about what the Avengers are up to these days, any information that Tony has that isn’t classified and can be shared with a former enemy and a first grader. Morgan releases Tony’s hand and skips ahead by a few yards, chasing after more ducks and squirrels that come to forage alongside the path.

Tony and Loki walk alongside each other in silence for a few moments, Tony’s eyes straying along the path and occasionally checking in to make sure his daughter hasn’t lost a finger to one of the woodland creatures. Loki keeps stealing glances at him, his dark eyes the same color as the cider and somehow containing even more warmth, the tips of his ears and nose tinged pink by the bite of the wind. He wants to reach out and pull his scarf tighter around his face, or remove it altogether so that he can reach into his coat and feel just how soft that plush sweater is.

He glances away before he can be caught, gaze passing idly over the people around them. It’s a lot quieter away from all of the more entertaining attractions, Loki noticing that other than the occasional family trio with a sleeping infant in a stroller, the trail is home to mostly couples. Pairs walking hand in hand, sharing kisses and head rests on shoulders, taking pictures and enjoying the peaceful, picturesque view of nature around them.

“This is a rather romantic outing, isn’t it?” Loki muses aloud, not entirely sure if he meant to be that vocal.

Tony pauses before answering. “... I guess for some people, yeah.”

“I’ve just noticed mostly families or couples here.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of  _ friends _ too.”

Loki comes to a stop. Tony only makes it another step before he stops as well, looking at him almost nervously. Bashfully. Loki takes a step closer to him, moving his hand subtly to gently caress the skin of Tony’s wrist, exposed between his sleeve and glove. “Is that what we are?” He asks quietly.

Tony shivers, eyes cast off to the side under the guise of watching Morgan, but he can tell his thoughts are nowhere but this space between them. “What do you consider us?” He asks tightly, tactfully not answering the question. Stubborn fool.

Loki mulls it over for a moment, unable to speak until Tony meets his eye again. “...Not friends.”

Tony looks down again, incredibly long lashes shrouding his eyes away. He slowly lifts the hand that Loki is still grazing, sliding their fingers together until they’re interlocked, palms flush. “Guess I can’t argue with that one,” he huffs out a soft laugh and gives Loki a little tug, starting up the walk again.

This time they look more like the couples around them, hands swinging gently between them as they trek onward, Morgan gaining some distance during their interlude but still visible. Loki stares down at their hands for longer than he wants to admit, biting back a smile as he looks forward again. “Is this a date?”

Tony seems thrown by the question despite the hand-holding, his brow furrowing for a moment. “I think so. Haven’t really  _ dated _ before. At least not like this.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Loki hums, gazing sideways at Tony.

They end up catching up to Morgan whose solo adventure has come to a stop, the girl kneeling at the edge of the water, sprinkling bits of pastry bread in attempts to lure a family of ducklings closer. “Mo, not so close!” Tony calls out to her, straying from the path so they can take a seat on a lone bench down near the lake. Morgan backs up a little but still pays them no mind, enamored with the ducks treading water with uncertainty in front of her.

“What usually happens at this point of the date?” Loki asks after another long silence stretches between them, the two of them placidly watching the little girl dance around the edge of the lake, kicking up leaves in her wake.

Tony looks over at him, narrowing his eyes a little. “Well, if this were a date— Which it definitely isn’t—

“No, of course not.”

“—this is normally the part where we would kiss,” Tony finishes, clearly fighting a smirk. He gives Loki’s hand a squeeze where it rests on his thigh.

“Well,” Loki sighs, shifting closer. He reaches up with his free hand to straighten out Tony’s scarf, thumb brushing ever so slightly against the smooth line of his throat. Tony’s Adam's apple bobs under the touch, pupils dilated. “It’s a good thing this isn’t a date then.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering as Loki rests a warm hand fully against his neck. “Good thing.”

He tastes of sugar and apples when Loki kisses him, their lips slotting together easily. Tony leans into the touch, Loki’s hand sliding up along his jaw, coaxing it open with gentle strokes of his thumb. He hears a soft sigh pass between them as Tony parts his lips, tongue flickering out to stroke alongside Loki’s, catching on his upper lip. They release each other’s hands at the exact same time, Loki’s moving to frame Tony’s face between both hands while Tony curls his into the lapels of Loki’s coat.

Tony breaks the kiss after a few moments of uninterrupted, public snogging, leaving their foreheads together as he catches his breath. He pulls back by a fraction, but not before letting his nose rub against Loki’s for a moment, cheeks flushed. “I let you have that one,” he breathes, Loki enjoying how ragged he sounds after just one kiss. He missed hearing Tony’s voice like that.

“Mm, how about another?” Loki purrs, drawing little circles onto both of Tony’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“No, that’s the only one you get,” Tony mutters, eyes already sliding closed as he leans in again.

“Of course,” Loki agrees before leaning down to capture his lips once more.

* * *

They continue  _ not dating _ over the next few of weeks, Loki giving up his hotel suite in the city to just stay in one of the extra rooms at the Avengers home base since it’s closer to Tony’s cabin. He becomes familiar with the way the second step on his porch always creaks beneath his shoe, and all the smells of the garden they keep around the back of the house. He also finally meets the elusive Gerald the Alpaca, who only tries to bite him  _ once _ . It’s comforting. It reminds him of how he felt after finally finding his own pocket of life in New Asgard, but  _ warmer _ , even as Autumn makes its quick transition into an Upstate New York Winter.

Some days are spent with Morgan, some without. The little bugger is quite charming when she wants to be, saying all sorts of odd little things, her comedic timing and quick, unfiltered comebacks another clear gift from her father. They strike up a bit of a camaraderie, Loki learning a tolerance for her somehow always mysteriously sticky hands and childlike fits of frustration, and Morgan learning his dry, disdainful attitude towards her is nothing more than farce.

He learns that Pepper has an apartment in Albany that she completes most of her work from unless she has to go into the city for Stark Industries business. They finalized the divorce a few months ago, the process drawn out and tedious despite both their amity about the situation. He supposes when there’s a multi-billion dollar company and a child involved, things can get slightly complicated legality wise.

When it’s easiest, she just stays at the cabin with Tony and Morgan, many of her things still occupying one of the guest rooms. Loki is sure to make himself scarce whenever she comes home in the evenings or even drops in to pick up Morgan for her weekend in the city. Of course, any stretch of upward progression in his and Tony’s relationship has to be interrupted eventually.

There comes an evening where his usual early departure is interrupted by the insistence of a movie marathon, both of the Starks appalled that he hasn’t yet seen any of the  _ Star Wars  _ films. There’s apparently an entire chronology of events that is best viewed out of order so he can appreciate the  _ full experience. _ (Why the movies didn’t just come out in the correct order, Loki has no idea. Midgardians love making things complicated for themselves.)

Lost in a repeated plot theme of Stopping-Large-Gun-From-Blowing-Up-Planet, Loki begins to drift off after his viewing partners have already dozed off on either side of him, Tony’s head on his shoulder and Morgan’s in his lap. The next thing he knows, he’s jolted back to consciousness with the sound of a slam and the feeling of another presence in the room.

The room is dark aside from the light coming off the TV, the movie’s home screen playing in a loop. Loki squints over to his right, bleary eyes taking a moment to register Pepper standing in the living room, staring right back at him. She taps a panel on the wall to switch off the TV and bring up the lights, the sudden change in environment enough to stir the Starks still using him for a pillow.

Tony grunts in annoyance, turning his face into Loki’s neck for a moment while his daughter slowly pushes herself into a sitting position, yawning widely. “Mommy!” She greets in a sleepy excitement, crawling off the couch to capture her bottom half in a hug. 

Loki feels Tony stiffen against his side before he rights himself, carefully extracting himself from Loki’s side despite the damage being done. “Hey, Pep,” he greets in a hoarse croak, clearing his throat. “I thought you were staying in Albany tonight.”

“I was going to, but my meeting for tomorrow got cancelled. I figured I could take Morgan to school in the morning,” she explains in a clipped tone, still putting on a smile as she strokes a hand over Morgan’s hair. “It’s past your bedtime, Gumdrop. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right up to tuck you in.”

“But I wanted to have a sleepover with Loki,” the child bemoans, tugging on the bottom of her pajama shirt.

“Maybe next time,” Pepper answers as kindly as she can, but Loki can hear the danger lurking beneath her tone. “ _ Not _ on a school night,” she adds, cutting a look towards Tony.

The child trudges off with mumbled complaint, rubbing her eyes as she makes her way up the stairs. Loki clears his throat awkwardly and stands, gathering his coat from the back of an armchair. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you,” Pepper says without looking at him, courtesy wearing thin.

Loki walks down the porch steps, hesitating at the bottom to eavesdrop on the conversation still ongoing inside.

_ “So he’s spending the night now?” _

_ “It wasn’t like that, we didn’t mean to fall asleep.” _

_ “Even if you didn’t, we talked about this. I don’t care who you see or what you do, but if you’re getting Morgan involved in your relationship then I have a right to know—” _

_ “You know about Loki—" _

_ “Only what you choose to tell me! You do understand where I’m coming from, right? To most of the world, he’s still known as a crazed,  _ mass-murderer _ who destroyed New York and tried to take over the world!” _

_ “That’s not who he is anymore. My weapons have probably killed more people than Loki has!”  _

_ Definitely not true,  _ Loki interjects to himself.  _ I’ve got a few centuries of life-taking on you, Iron Man. _

Tony releases a frustrated sigh.  _ “I’d expect you of all people to understand that people can change after everything we’ve been through together.” _

_ “Please don’t make me feel like I’m being the bad guy, Tony.” _

_ “You know I’d never do that.” _

_ “Maybe not intentionally—” _

_ “Even unintentionally!” _

A long stretch of silence. The argument stays hushed and controlled, both parents clearly trying to keep from alerting their perceptive little one from knowing anything is amiss.

_ “How serious are things getting between you two?” _

_ “You know I don’t know how to answer that. It’s… complicated.” _

_ “Do you two still have the…” _ A pause. He assumes a gesture to her forearm. 

Loki curses quietly under his breath. He and Tony had done a fairly decent job at playing blissful ignorance in regards to that bothersome bond.

_ “Yes.” _

_ “And are you trying to do anything about it?” _

Tony is quiet for a long moment. Loki doesn’t linger to find out whether or not he can come up with an answer for her.

Loki had meant to tell him so many times now that he tried to find a way out of it, a secret loophole that no one had uncovered yet because they weren’t looking hard enough. But he had failed, and bringing up his failures to return Tony’s life to the normalcy he so craved seemed like a sure way to ruin the relationship he’s trying to rebuild.

* * *

  
  
Loki keeps his distance over the next few days, ignoring any and all texts that come from Tony as he mulls over his options.

There are many ways he could go about moving past these little bumps in the road— a justifyingly angry ex-wife, a magically binding contract, his villainous reputation amongst mortals— all things that can most likely be properly dealt with by open and honest discussion.

He never was good at dealing with such nuisances in a  _ proper _ manner.

It’s midday and midweek when Loki tears himself away from general lurking around the Avengers base. As entertaining as it is making poor underlings squirm with his very presence until Natasha or anyone else who’s unafraid of him shoos him away, he has more important matters to attend to. He parks the car off to the side of the long driveway, throwing a glamour of it with a wave of his hand before he teleports the last, short distance to the house.

Blaring guitars can be heard through the garage’s walls as Loki approaches, the volume almost overwhelming when he swings the door open and lets it slam shut behind him. Tony is hunched over the open hood of a car when Loki enters, wearing a grease-stained tank top and half-on coveralls. He mouths something that Loki can’t hear over the music, the volume immediately turning down to tolerable levels of background noise. “I didn’t know you were coming by,” he pushes his glasses to the top of his head, extracting his arms from the bowels of the engine.

“Surprise,” Loki drones, pushing work tables and carts on wheels out of the way as he makes a beeline towards the back of the garage. “Your offspring is at school, yes?”

“Yeah—”

“And Pepper is gone at well?”

“Well, yeah, she’s at work. Loki, what—”

Loki wastes no time, grabbing Tony by either side of the face to haul him in for a kiss. He takes advantage of the gasp against his lips, greedily licking his way into the other man’s mouth as he backs him up against the car.

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony manages between kisses, hands showing no sign of slowing down despite his words as they grab hold of Loki’s hips, thumbs sliding into his belt loops. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t missed this,” Loki dodges the question, reaching back behind Tony to collapse the hood prop, letting it slam shut behind him. He hoists Tony up to sit on the hood of the car, fitting himself in between his legs as he reaches between them and lets his hand slip under the coveralls.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony breathes, eyes immediately closing as Loki strokes him over the material of his boxers, feeling him harden immediately. “Jesus, Lo, I was working—”

“ _ Was _ being the operative word,” Loki purrs, removing his hands from Tony’s trousers to grasp him by the hips and scoot him higher up onto the car. He climbs up on top of the hood, leaning over Tony’s body as he captures his mouth again. He slips his hands underneath the hem of his tank top, fingers running over the smooth line of Tony’s back as he arches up against him, allowing him to push it up to his armpits. He feels the man shiver as his bare skin touches back down onto the smooth metal of the car, Loki letting his hands move up to the front of his chest.

He works Tony’s nipples between his fingers, carefully keeping their hips apart as he slides himself lower, Tony pushing himself back further so no one goes tumbling onto the garage floor. Careful to keep their hips from touching, wanting to tease Tony further, Loki drags his mouth down to his collarbone, pushing the shirt up higher so that he can lean down and capture one of his nipples between his teeth. He continues to lick and tease at the sensitive nub, Tony’s stifled little sounds echoing in the garage, almost as an act of defiance.

“ _ Relax, darling, _ ” Loki murmurs against his chest, pressing a kiss to his sternum before letting his mouth following the solid lines of muscle down over his abdomen, the muscles contracting with every teasing drag of his lips or fingertips. “Let me take care of everything,” he says, unzipping the work pants even more and sliding the waistband of them as far down onto his hips as they’ll go without fully exposing him. If he can’t express his feelings to Tony through words, at least he can always fall back on their undeniable, physical connection.

At least, that had been his intention. He’s enjoying the way Tony’s muscles are twitching beneath him as his tongue laves over the sensitive spot of his inner hip flexor, when the AI interrupts from above.

“Erm, Boss?”

Tony groans loudly, now out of frustration rather than pleasure. “ _ What _ , Fri?” He snaps, already beginning to away.

“Sorry for interrupting, Boss. I figured you wouldn’t want to be found like this. A car from the Avengers compound is arriving on the premises now. It appears to be Brigadier General Rhodes, Doctor Banner, Captain Rogers, and Director Romanoff.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Tony groans, the back of his head thudding against the windshield.

Loki doesn’t remove himself from between Tony’s legs, dragging his hands along his waist to coax him back into the moment. “Just ignore them and they’ll go away,” he growls in annoyance, mouthing insistently along Tony’s abdomen.

“You clearly don’t know my friends as well as you think you do,” Tony sighs, eyelids fluttering for a moment before he gently pushes Loki off of him, holding him at arm’s length. “I’ve got to go deal with them.  _ Stay here _ ,” he points a finger to his chest, Loki allowing the other man to slip out from under him, rearranging himself in his underwear and tying the sleeves of his coveralls around his hips to covertly hide his erection. Tony leans in close, pressing an all-too-quick kiss to his lips, his next words spoken in a dropped register. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Loki innocently holds up his hands, watching Tony leave and try and adjust his gait into something that doesn’t look like he’s trying to walk with a semi.

Approximately five minutes pass of Loki poking around in the garage until he decides he’s bored. He peers out of one if the windows facing the house, seeing the black pick up truck parked outside, but no sign of their visitors. Now he’s grateful he was so cautious in his approach. No reason to let the Avengers in on the fact that he’s here.

Ignoring Tony’s command to stay put, Loki slinks out of the garage and hears the sound of voices, following it around towards the back of the house. He stands beneath the elevated porch, leaning against a support beam to listen in. It doesn’t take him long to realize that, yet again, he finds himself privy to a heated argument in which all the vitriol is aimed at Tony, and the cause for all that anger is, well,  _ him _ .

“—Some kind of intervention?” Tony is saying, disbelief and anger coloring his tone.

“That’s not what this is, Tony,” comes the annoyingly cordial tone of Rogers.

“Oh yeah? It sure feels like it.”

“To be fair,” Banner interjects. “I told them talking to you like this was a bad idea.”

“And as usual, Jekyll-and-Hyde here is the only one of you that has any brain cells.”

“We’re worried, Tone,” Rhodes expresses. “ _ Pepper’s _ worried.”

Tony scoffs. “Is  _ that _ what this is about? You’re all seriously blowing this way out of proportion.”

A frustrated sigh he immediately recognizes as belonging to Natasha. “You’re giving us no choice, Tony.”

“Since when is my dating life any of your concern? And don’t come at me with some kind of security risk or conflict of interest bullshit. In case you all forgot, I  _ left _ the Avengers.” Loki hears the sound of a chair being pushed back, anxious steps pacing above. “I can’t help but notice most of the gang is here  _ minus _ Thor. I’m assuming that was intentional considering you were all coming here to trash talk his brother to me?”

No one has an answer for that one. Loki smiles ruefully.

“We just care about your safety,” Rhodes sighs. “I’ve known you for a long time, Tone. You always give people the benefit of the doubt, and we both know how often that’s come back to bite you in the ass. You’re always looking out for everyone else that you forget to protect yourself while you’re at it.”

“It’s obvious to all of us here that you really care about him,” Bruce chimes in softly. “Whatever it is that’s going on between you two that you won’t talk about with anyone… we’re here to listen.”

Tony scoffs, “Listen and judge.”

“No,” Natasha says quietly. “We all have our dark pasts. I know we’re all on different levels here, but I, for one, am fine with Loki sticking around.”

A beat passes. Rogers clears his throat, Loki presuming that everyone glanced to him. His next words are shocking to hear. “We all saw that Loki was on our side against Thanos during the battle. He helped save your life; We can’t ignore that... If you trust him, that’s enough for us.”

Natasha speaks up again, almost mother-like. “We just want to know that he cares about you as much as you care about him. Why didn’t he stay after the battle? He left so quickly—”

“How should I know?!” Tony erupts. “I certainly can’t blame him considering the way you all would’ve come at him with pitchforks and torches if he tried to stick around. You think I meant to fall for the guy just for him to disappear off the face of the planet for a year?!”

Silence settles over the group at the outburst. Loki finds himself holding his breath. While he revels in being a voyeur to chaos, continuing to listen in on this ambush suddenly feels… wrong. He teleports himself away from the house, making a break for his car at a fast jog while he turns Tony’s words over in his mind.

The Avengers are questioning whether or not Loki could ever claim to care for Tony in the same degree? He doesn’t quite know how to answer that himself. He’s never cared about anyone but himself for the longest time, aside from Thor and his mother. Even then, the love had always felt conditional to some capacity, perhaps not now, but for most of his life it had. From the moment he and Tony met, there’s been nothing but passion, a hatred turned so quickly to the opposite end of the spectrum through their tumultuous circumstance and aligned creeds.

Here’s Tony, constantly going to bat for him against everyone else in his life, defending his name and their relationship and keeping the truth about The Pact a secret. He dragged Loki out of that darkness that he had let consume him, a shining beacon that led him back to a life he’d shattered in his own self-fulfilling prophecy, never forcing, but guiding him back to decide for himself to pick up the pieces again.

Tony has given him opportunity after opportunity to show his goodness not only to everyone else, but also remind himself that it is, in fact,  _ there _ . Perhaps it’s time he returns the favor by exhibiting some of that behavior himself.

Which is precisely why the next day, he finds himself back in Manhattan, easily slipping past all forms of security at Stark Industries to make his way up to Pepper Potts’ office on the top floor of the building. It’s a massive space, nicely decorated with a fantastic view and mini bar that Loki takes it upon himself to enjoy while he waits for its owner’s return.

He’s sitting on the leather sofa in the corner of the room when he hears approaching footsteps coming down the hallway, familiar with the pace of her clicking heels. He’s darkened the tint on the windows, leaving the room dark and cast in shadow despite the bright, sunny day outside. Even when coming in peace, he can’t help his flare for dramatics.

Pepper pushes the door open with a hip, typing away at the phone in one hand while the other grasps at a thick case file, humming dismissively along to the call in her bluetooth earbuds. She glances around the dark room in confusion for a moment, reaching out to slide upwards on the panel on the wall to let the light back in.

Attention drawn to the now exposed figure lounging in the corner of her office, her eyes fall on Loki, expression unwavering. They stare at each other for a few moments. “I’m going to have to call you back,” she says flatly, ending the call.

He’s not given so much as a flinch. How disappointing that the woman’s nerves are carved from steel.

“Am I going to have to call security?” She asks flatly, removing both ear earbuds and her heels as she walks over to her desk.

“Just so they can be ashamed by how easy it was for me to slip past their defenses? No, no reason to humiliate them like that,” Loki holds up his snifter of brandy, watching the way the crystal glass refracts the light. “You might want to hire a new team for protection, though.”

He watches her eyes roll behind closed lids as she sets her things down on her desk and walks over to the bar, picking up the opened bottle of Cognac. “This bottle was worth four-thousand dollars.”

“I'm sure you can take the hit,” he replies, glancing pointedly around all one-thousand square feet of her office.

She exhales through her nose in barely restrained annoyance, turning to face him. “Why are you here, Loki?”

He smiles at her pleasantly, crossing one leg over the other. “I think it’s time we have a little  _ talk _ .”

“Alright then,” she says decisively, walking back behind her desk and taking a seat in the high-backed, leather chair. She gestures to one of the seats in front of her, folding her hands beneath her chin. “Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter and an epilogue after that! Thank you again to everyone who's stuck with this WIP for so long and left such kind comments and kudos <3 I appreciate each and every one of you for indulging my little fix-it.


	12. It Was You

Loki can  _ feel _ someone staring at him. He doesn’t glance up fully from his book, but his eyeline moves to the top of the page so he can subtly take note of his periphery. As far as he can tell, he’s alone in the common area, as he has been for most of the day. He closes his eyes for a moment, tuning into his heightened senses. Nothing, at first, but then after a moment of concentration… an irregularly paced heartbeat. Faster than the average mortal, something beyond a regular threshold of anxiety.

Loki feigns reading for a few moments longer before he quickly slams the book shut and whips his head around, coming face to face with an upside-down Peter. The boy immediately yelps and releases his grip on the web he was hanging from, righting himself mid-fall to land on the ground in a crouch rather than on his head.

“Were you spying on me?” Loki asks, resting his chin in his hand as he leans over the back of the couch to look down on the teenager. “I apologize I wasn’t doing something more interesting or dastardly than reading fifteenth century Spanish literature.”

“I-I wasn’t spying!” Peter immediately straightens up, tugging on the hem of his jacket. “I was just practicing stealth, that’s all.”

Loki hums, looking the kid over. “Well, you’ll probably be fairly undetectable for regular humans. You may want to choose a different target next time if you don’t want to be discovered though,” he suggests before turning back to his book, thumbing along for the page he left off on.

Peter shifts his weight behind him. “Well, that’s the thing, I was kind of testing my limits to see how I do against not regular humans… Could you, um, maybe— that is— you don't have to— I mean, I know you’re not really—”

“Oh, just spit it out,” Loki sighs, pushing the book off of his lap.

“Would you help me train?” he blurts out in a rush. “It’s just that, well, my spidey-sense has been getting a lot better, and I think with your powers you’d be able to help me train it even more. Plus, Mr. Stark is coming by the compound today and I’d really like to impress him—”

“Tony is coming here?” Loki interrupts, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah, in a few hours. There’s some important UN stuff coming up and they want him here for it. Normally when he comes by for his consulting stuff, he sticks around to see how everyone is.”

Loki purses his lips for a moment. He hasn’t spoken to Tony since last week’s Avenger-vention debacle, and since his little ambush meeting with Pepper. He supposed eventually they’ll have to see one another again.

He gets to his feet, reaching up to tie his hair into a bun to keep it out of his face. “Alright, I’ll help you train. But know that I won’t hold back just because you’re a child.”

“I’m almost eighteen!” he complains, quickly falling into step beside Loki to lead him over to the training facilities.

Apparently the kid possesses some kind of sixth sense that’s triggered whenever he’s in danger, but can also help him in situations where his regular reflexes and observational skills might not cut it. Loki changes into comfortable training garb, Asgardian in its design of lightweight and almost silent fabrics, forgoing any leathers or armor he may need for an opponent tougher than the teen in front of him. He meets Peter’s request of summoning illusions, both of himself as well as other obstacles. It takes the kid a few tries to get the hang of what Loki has to throw at him, but he soon is able to pick up on what is reality and what isn’t.

After a while, Loki drops all illusions and shades himself with a glamour, attacking Peter as an unseen foe. He’s surprised to find that he can’t land a single blow, all of his unarmed strikes immediately blocked by Peter  _ with his eyes closed _ . He attempts simple ranged attacks with magic, the boy immediately dodging out of the way of all attacks and even launching himself at Loki for a counter attack. He’s easy enough to rebuff, not actually attempting to harm Loki during the training session.

They draw a bit of a crowd, Loki noticing the outlines of a few figures behind the frosted glass of the viewing rooms above. They keep going at each other until they’re both exhausted, Loki drained both physically and magically. He only lets himself drop to his knees after Peter rolls away from another attempted swipe, remaining on his back rather than bouncing back to his feet like he had so many times before.

“Thanks,” Peter huffs out between pants, still not getting up from where he’s laying down on the mat, chest heaving. “I think I’m getting a lot better.”

If this is still the child  _ developing _ his abilities, Loki fears to know what kind of adversary he’ll be once he’s fully matured. “Yes, well… You make for an interesting opponent with that… what did you call it?”

“Spidey-sense,” Peter answers, lifting his head. “The name is still a work in progress though. Any suggestions? Other than Peter Tingle, please.”

Loki makes a face. “I certainly prefer Spidey-sense to…  _ Peter Tingle _ .”

Peter grins at him, letting his head thunk back to the mat in satisfaction. “Me too.”

They exit through the sliding doors of the training room, Loki coming to a stop when he sees Tony standing in front of him. He’s wearing tinted spectacles and a full, three-piece suit, looking more cleaned up and formal than Loki has ever seen him. He wants to rip the expensive clothes right off of him and possibly find use for that bright purple tie he’s sporting, but perhaps there will be time for that later.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter greets jovially, immediately jogging up to him. “How was the UN stuff?”

“Snooze fest, as it always is. Certainly wasn’t as fun as watching you two,” he answers with a smile, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s sweat-damp head.

“You saw that?” Peter asks, full of hope and anxiousness. Oh to be young and have someone you so openly vie for approval from.

“Some of it. You’re getting a lot better, kid. Go rinse off and we’ll talk about your next mission, okay?”

Peter practically sprints off to the locker rooms, Tony watching him go with a smile. His gaze then shifts over to Loki, that prideful sparkle in his eye not wavering even as it moves away from his protege.

“That was really nice of you,” he comments, hands in his pockets.

“Yes, well, he practically begged me to train with him,” Loki brushes off, cleaning himself up and changing back into more casual dress with a wave of his hand.

“Mhm,” Tony hums, looking smug. He steps closer, tilting his head to the side. “Is that what you’ve been up to while you’ve been dodging my texts? Training with the good guys?”

“Hardly,” Loki scoffs. “I’ve been keeping busy with other matters.”

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

“You were taking too long,” Loki replies with a hair of too much harshness to come off as anything other than bitter. “How did your little pow-wow with the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes go?”

“Not as enjoyable as getting a blowjob on the hood of a ‘68 Shelby Mustang GT500KR would’ve been,” Tony grouses under his breath, lips twitching into a lop-sided grin.

Loki is unable to school his own expression any longer, Tony’s presence alone dragging a wide grin out of him. “Yes, they do have rather unfortunate timing.”

“Speaking of timing,” Tony fixes a strange look on him, brown eyes searching for something. “Pepper and I had an interesting conversation just the other day.”

“Oh?”

“She’s officially moved out,” Tony elaborates, crossing his arms casually over his stomach. “Came by and got the last of her things from the guest room. Said it would be good for both of us to put the last boundary in place. Any idea where that might have come from?”

  
  


_ Pepper stared him down, looking all the part of the powerful CEO as she sat behind her grand, mahogany desk. “I’m sorry, come again?” _

_ Loki rolled his eyes. “I am not fond of repeating myself, Miss Potts. I said that I came here to apologize. I do not do that often, so revel in the admission in your own time, please.” _

_ “Oh, I will,” Pepper assured him. “But, please, elaborate on this apology.” _

_ Swallowing his pride was a task easier said than done, but Loki had resigned to the fact that this meeting would not be an easy one for himself. The price he paid for indulging in selflessness for once. “I’m going to keep this brief, as I’m sure you’re a very busy woman. I’m apologizing for complicating both Tony’s life as well as yours, and the life of your child. While I am sorry for this… I will not be walking away from what I want. I understand that my past would have any sane person questioning my intent with someone they care about. I’m here today to assure you that I will never bring harm upon Tony or Morgan, and by extension, do my best to reign in my desire for bringing chaos to this realm. I cannot fully change who I am and I have much to atone for… but I am starting those reparations now. I am here to extend an olive branch of sorts and also,” He grit his teeth. “Receive approbation from you.” _

_ Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Are you… asking for my blessing to continue dating my ex-husband?” _

_ Loki crossed his arms, an enraged scorpion whose stone has been overturned. “Do not mistake it as  _ asking for permission _ , as I will continue to do what I please no matter what you say. I am simply here to show that I reciprocated the lengths Tony has gone to.” _

_ Pepper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing there for a moment before she opened her eyes to look at him once more, unimpressed by “Just say what you really came here to say.” _

_ “I already have—” _

_ “No. I already knew all of that, Loki. Tony’s never had the best judgement in the world, but the fact that my kid seems to have really latched onto you is enough for me to know you’re not all bad. Just because I don’t necessarily  _ like _ this, doesn’t mean that I can’t accept it with time… but if you’re going to start being honest, I think there’s someone above me that you need to be honest with.” _

_ Loki’s jaw twitched. “I’ve been completely transparent with Tony—” _

_ “So you’ve told him you’re in love with him?” _

_ Despite all of the preparations Loki went through before he showed up here, her question brought him up short. _

_ Pepper leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Tony told me about the promise he made to you. I may not understand whatever freaky magic vow the two of you have been stuck with for so long, but I think that both of you are too smart to keep pretending like you don’t know what it is that’s still making you vulnerable.” _

Loki is pulled back to the present by Tony’s inquisitive gaze, meeting the scrutiny with feigned innocence. “I have no earthly idea. A mysterious change of heart, perhaps?”

Tony’s eyes narrow, clearly unconvinced but aware that any further prodding will get him nowhere. “Maybe so… Anyway, since she’s got Morgan for the weekend, I was thinking maybe you could come over tonight.”

Loki’s eyebrows raise. “Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us,” Tony affirms with a nod.

“Whatever will we do with that big house all to ourselves…” Loki muses thoughtfully, gazing out the window.

Tony smiles somewhere over his shoulder, raising his hand in a wave towards a freshly clean spiderling emerging from the showers. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth, brushing his fingers along the back of Loki’s hand as he walks past him. “Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll be there at eight,” Loki calls over his shoulder, freely admiring Tony’s suit-clad form as he retreats down the hallway. The man slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders, immediately launching into animated conversation filled with jargon Loki won’t even attempt to understand.

Loki spends the rest of the day mildly harassing Thor with Wanda’s assistance, ignoring any and all comments in regards to how often he keeps glancing at his watch.

* * *

When he pulls up to the cabin later that evening at eight o’clock on the dot, he’s met with an apology.

“Pepper had a last minute emergency at work,” Tony explains, opening Loki’s car door for him as soon as the car is in park. “She has to fly overseas for the weekend and didn’t want to drag Mo along and screw up her sleep schedule.”

While it’s a minor inconvenience to his original plans of finding all sorts of new surfaces between the garage and the house to have his way on with the mortal, he doesn’t let any irritation at the change of plans show. “Of course,” Loki answers amicably, rising up out of the car to plant a long kiss against Tony’s lips.

He feels the other man’s hand slide warmly around his waist, thumbs hooking inside the bottom of his sweater before he forces the kiss to a halt before either of them can get too involved. “She was pretty disappointed about not seeing her mom this weekend so we’re backyard camping to cheer her up. Hope you’re in the mood for hot dogs and s’mores and freezing your ass off for a couple of hours.”

“I’ve never had either, so my expectations are reasonably low as they are with most Midgardian cuisine,” Loki answers with a wry smile.

He allows the small comfort in letting his hand slip into Tony’s, linking their fingers together as he’s lead to the back of the house. Down by the lake’s edge is a small tent set up with hanging lanterns a few feet away from a fire pit. Morgan is slumped down in one of the folding chairs, looking as glum as Loki’s ever seen her with a long skewer in hand as she lets the hot dog on the end of it burn to a crisp.

“Hey, I thought I said I like it  _ lightly _ charred,” Tony teases as they approach, leaning over the back of the chair to plant a kiss to the top of her head.

“Sorry,” Morgan sighs, pulling the blackened meat away from the flames so Tony can toss it out. “Hi, Loki,” she greets without the usual vigor.

“Hello, Mogwai,” he replies, not even getting so much as a smile out of the child despite the enjoyment she’s gotten out of the new nickname since they watched  _ Gremlins _ . “Sorry to hear that your weekend has been ruined and that you have to spend time with your old man.”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Tony gripes from where he’s bent over a duffel with their half-baked camping provisions, opening up a fresh bag of hot dogs and buns. The comment manages to get the smallest of smiles out of the girl, which is reward enough no matter the side casualties of her father’s ego.

“S’Okay. I love my daddy just as much,” she mumbles plainly, Loki’s heart aching a little for the child. What it must be like to be raised by two people with so much unconditional love to give. “I wanted to go with Mama because sometimes her meetings make her upset, but if I was with her, I wouldn’t let it happen.”

Loki pulls a chair closer to her, warming his hands by the fire despite not being affected by the bitter cold in the air. “How about we make sure to check time zones and give your mother a call tomorrow after her meetings so you can still help cheer her up?”

Morgan allows a small smile to slip through. “Yeah… that could be good.”

Loki hums in agreement, “Our mission for right now is to figure out how to cheer  _ you _ up,” He reaches over and gives her a playful thump between the eyes. She shoves his hand away and feigns a pout still, turning her face away. “Hm… What’s this in the fire?” He asks, leaning in closer.

She peeks over at the flames, eyes widening slightly. Loki uses his magic to craft the flames into different shapes, small dancers holding hands and spinning around the inside of the pit, horses galloping and disappearing into the flames, dolphins jumping over the logs. Just for fun, he makes a tiny Iron Man shaped figure shoot out of the top of the fire and hover for a moment before it bursts into ember.

“ _ Wow! _ ” She cries, almost falling out of her chair in excitement. She claps her hands and turns her usual bright smile on him. “More, more! What else can you do?”

“Well, the elements were never my forte, especially fire. It’s a bit dangerous to do anything more than that,” Loki explains, gesturing with his hand to make the fire quiver and bend to his will before dropping the spell. “One time, I was attempting to change the color of my mother’s curtains in our library, and I accidentally caught them on fire.”

“Wait,  _ that’s _ what happened?” Tony pipes up with a laugh, coming to sit next to them and hand them their dogs-on-sticks. “I can’t believe you refused to tell me,” he snickers, his daughter quickly joining in.

“It was humiliating! I was fourteen years old, and I couldn’t put them out myself! I had to go running to the nearest attendants to come and help, and I wasn’t supposed to be practicing fire magic at the time so I had to tell my mother I accidentally held a candle too close. Of course she didn’t believe me for a second, but— Stop laughing at me!”

The night descends into more giggles and stories as they roast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire. Morgan lets Loki in on her very confidential secret method of the perfect S’more. Instead of using just chocolate, she adds a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup which makes it “exponentially more delicious” in her words. They’re an absolute mess to eat, Loki getting melted chocolate and marshmallow goop and graham cracker crumbs all over himself after just one disgustingly delectable treat. He lets Tony clean his fingers and the edges of his mouth with a wet wipe, stealing a kiss much to Morgan’s fake disgust as he does so.

As the temperature begins to steadily drop into the night, the two of them eventually manage to convince Morgan that she can’t spend the night outside unless she wants to lose a few fingers and toes. Bundled up in a blanket, Tony scoops the half-asleep tyke into his arms, Loki following behind with the rolled up tent under one arm and bag of camping supplies in the other.

Morgan hooks her chin over Tony’s shoulder, long lashes fanning tiredly as she struggles to keep her eyes open. “Daddy, can Loki read me a bedtime story tonight?”

Tony shifts her weight to one arm so he can open the sliding door, glancing back at Loki. “If he wouldn’t mind?”

The request is startlingly intimate, especially considering this is the latest Loki has ever stayed outside of the movie marathon slip-up, and even then, he had been banished before it could even be suggested he take part in the bed-time rituals.

“Of course,” he answers simply, catching the edge of Tony’s smile as he faces forward again.

Loki sits in on bath time, perched on the lid of the toilet seat as Tony cleans his six-year-old who gets a second wind once she has the chance to splash around in the suds and water for a bit. Loki makes a few more shapes in the water at request, admonished by Tony once they get a little too excited after making a giant bathtub kraken that splashes the walls and ceiling.

They’re both damp by the time they wrangle Morgan into a fluffy towel to dry off and then get her into her pajamas. Tony goes to his room to change, Loki electing to dry off magically as he carries Morgan to her room and gets her properly tucked into bed.

“Alright, Little One,” Loki sighs as he sinks down into the rocking chair placed beside the bed, the honorary throne of story-telling. He glances over the bookshelf, fingers walking across the tops of the many, colorful tomes. “What would you like me to read you tonight?”

“No,” she complains, feet kicking underneath her duvet. “I want a story from  _ you _ .”

He purses his lips, “I suppose that could be arranged… What kind of story are you in the mood for?” He asks, leaning back in the rocking chair.

“How about a scary story?” She suggests, pulling her blankets up closer to her chin. “Like the one about the big tree-eating worm thing you told me last time!”

“First of all, the Nidhogg is a serpent, not a worm. Secondly, if I continue to fill your mind with terrifying creatures like that, your father will have my head for being the cause of such nightmares.”

“I’m not scared of nightmares!” Morgan claims brazenly. “They’re just dreams; they’re not real. I like hearing about that kind of stuff. It makes the real world less scary!”

What an idealistic view. Only a child of Tony, he supposes. “Well, alright then,” Loki steeples his fingers, tapping them together in thought. “How about I tell you the story of how the most terrifying creature known to all Asgardians invaded their ranks?

Excitement sparks behind sleepily hooded eyes, Morgan nodding as emphatically as a little girl who’s stayed up past her bedtime can nod.

“Alright then…” He settles into the chair, lightly rocking himself back and forth as he begins to craft his tale. “Once upon a time, there was an old king named Odin, who was king of all the Asgardians—”

“Like you.”

“We’re getting to that. Now, for a very, very,  _ very _ long time, Asgardians had one main enemy: the Frost Giants of a place called Jotunnheim. Now, these monsters are exactly what they sound like, they tower over humans and could swallow you in _ one bite _ ,” he reaches over to pinch playfully at her toes. “They have blue skin covered in ice, and blood red eyes, and live in the harshest, coldest conditions possible. A long time ago, King Odin led his warriors to fight a war to end all wars on Jotunnheim. When the battle was won, he took the source of power and magic from the planet, intending to let all the Frost Giants die there as their planet collapsed… However, that’s not the only thing he took. Odin found an abandoned child on the outskirts of the battlefield. It was a baby Frost Giant, but other than the blue skin and red eyes, it was much… smaller, than baby Frost Giants are supposed to be. Do you know what a runt is?”

Morgan manages a small nod, her eyes already shut, “Like in a litter. My friend’s dog had puppies and there was a runt who was smaller than all the other ones.”

“Yes, exactly. You see, this little baby was sort of the runt. And for Frost Giants, it was seen as not only being small, but being  _ weak _ , so they left it behind. Now, the King, despite all of his faults, for some reason decided he would take the baby in. Now, Asgard couldn’t know that their king took in an offspring of their mortal enemy, so he used magic to disguise the baby as a regular Asgardian, and raised it as his second son. He already had his own, legitimately born son, who would one day take his place and rule Asgard, and the two became... brothers.”

“If the king already had a prince, why did he want another one?” Morgan asks around a yawn.

When he looks back at the child, her eyes are open again. He blinks and glances away, trying to find an answer appropriate to provide to a six year-old. “I don’t know,” he eventually confesses. “There could be many reasons…”

Morgan purses her lips. “Maybe he didn’t want the little baby to die out there. It’s not his fault he was a runt…”

Loki swallows and folds his hands over a knee, staring at his pale fingers against the dark fabric. “Perhaps… Either way, the child was raised and was never told of his true nature. The second prince thought he was just like everyone else… even if he did have interests quite different from his brother. As time went on, there came a time where the two brothers travelled back to Jotunnheim, which caused the younger prince to find out what he really was… He had grown up hearing stories about Frost Giants. Mothers and wet nurses would tell their children bedtime stories all about these horrific monsters, much like I’m telling you now.”

“But the second prince wasn’t a monster anymore,” Morgan tries.

Loki holds up a finger. “Well, perhaps he was. He felt… betrayed. Lied to. He was quite upset, you see, and it caused him to do some irrational things…”  _ Best not get into all that right now. She’s only a child _ . “He made several mistakes, and hurt many people, but eventually was able to see that his adoptive family: his brother, his mother… and even his father… they did love him…” Loki sighs heavily, wiping a hand down his face. “They wanted him to have a happy ending, just as all fairytale princes should.”  _ He was never destined for one _ .

“Does he?” Morgan’s voice is barely over an unintelligible mumble, face partially pressed into her pillow.

“Hm?”

“Does the younger prince get a happy ending?”

Loki glances to the partially open doorway. “...He might. But that’s a story for another night,” he rises out of the chair, turning off the lamp by Morgan’s bedside. “Go to sleep, or else a Frost Giant will come through your window and eat you.”

He hears a soft giggle in the darkness, smiling himself as he takes silent steps out of the room, leaving the door open by a small crack behind him in the way he knows Tony always does. He freezes mid-step down the hallway when his eyes catch a shadow, cast by a figure leaned against the wall.

“Were you listening?” Loki asks softly, meeting Tony’s eyes in the darkness. He can barely make out their color.

“Yes,” Tony whispers, no preamble.

Loki walks forward, resting against the wall opposite Tony. Warm light from the dimly lit sconces cast light across his profile as he turns to face him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

Tony isn’t looking at him. It’s frustrating. He wants to lash out, but he doesn’t. “Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s true?” He whispers, voice thick with something he’s not quite ready to swallow.

Tony finally looks at him, expression as painfully open and honest as it always is, even when Loki expects him to be withdrawn and mistrustful. “I don’t need to ask, because I don’t care what the answer is.”

“But surely you’re curious,” Loki mumurs. 

Tony shrugs, “Even if I was, would you tell me the truth if I asked?”

He can’t be angry that Tony eavesdropped, especially when he very well could have prevented him from listening in, or not told the story at all. “Perhaps this was the only way I know how to tell my truths,” he suggests, glancing back towards Morgan’s bedroom door. “Under the guise of fable and fiction.”

There’s a pregnant pause between them before Tony steps forward, sliding a hand up his forearm until it rests on the crook of his elbow. “Stay the night?” He asks softly. “I don’t want to… to do anything. I just want you close. I want you here when I wake up.”

The request is so forthright, so emotionally bare, that Loki has no choice but to accept. He nods slowly and allows Tony to take his hand and lead him into his bedroom. He doesn’t take his eyes off the other man as he undresses down to his underwear and crawls under the covers, simply following suit.

Tony’s skin is warm against his own, the two of them pressed together from head to toe. He lets Tony tuck his face against his neck, enveloping the smaller man in his arms as their legs tangle between the sheets, Tony not even flinching when Loki’s bare toes brush against his calf. Loki lifts a hand to brush through Tony’s hair, scratching the back of his scalp in careful, slow motions.

_ I want you here when I wake up. _

Unlike a nightmare, as Morgan pointed out, which is gone the moment you awake.

* * *

  
  


It takes Loki a long time to finally drift off, listening to Tony’s breathing patterns and little murmurings throughout the night until he eventually lets himself go under as well. He stirs slightly when an alarm goes off somewhere to his left, grunting when Tony wriggles his way free and mumbles a command to Friday to turn it off.

“As pretty as you are when you’re asleep, I’ve already got one grumpy child to wake up this morning, don’t give me two,” Tony croaks, giving his shoulder a little shake.

Loki grabs an extra pillow and swings it towards the bother without opening his eyes, letting it whiff through the air and fall to the floor with a thump.

“Charming,” Tony snorts before his weight leaves the bed altogether. Light pierces through the thin skin of his eyelids as he hears Tony shuffle around the room before the bedroom door opens and closes behind him.

He lays there for a while longer, drinking in the scent of Tony still clinging to the pillows, a mix of smoked cedar wood, his eucalyptus body wash, and a bit of motor oil. He can hear movement in the rest of the house, Tony’s slow to wake steps overlayed with Morgan’s small but boisterous patterings. The heady scent of bacon eventually drifts from the kitchen into the rest of the house, giving Loki the motivation to rouse himself.

“Slow down, Kiddo. I can’t perform the Heimlich until after my morning coffee,” Tony chides, voice still rough with sleep.

Morgan is already wolfing down her plate of bacon and eggs (both drowning in maple syrup) when he walks into the kitchen, her eyes snapping to him in surprise. “Morning, Loki!” She says cheerfully through her mouthful of food. At least, that’s what Loki assumes she means when all that escapes is muffled nonsense and bits of sprayed food on the counter.

Tony is quick to wipe it up with a dish towel, dropping it on top of her head. “ _ Chew _ .”

Morgan makes a face at him and pushes the towel away, carefully chewing her last bites before making an exaggerated ploy as though she’s choking, hands clutching her throat as she falls backwards in her chair, fully committing to the bit as she continues to make hacking sounds on the floor.

Tony goes about plating two more breakfasts, scooping the last of the bacon and eggs onto a plate for Loki. “You won’t be winning any Oscars with a performance like that, Miss Stark. We may have to rely on good ol’ nepotism if you wanna make it big. I can give Joe Hollywood a call as soon as you finish your food.”

Morgan sighs and eventually pulls herself off the ground, righting her upturned chair so she can continue her meal at a much more reasonable pace.

“Morning,” Loki murmurs once the theatrics are done, hesitating by the kitchen island as he glances between father and daughter. He isn’t sure the proper etiquette for a morning after that isn’t  _ really _ a morning after when all they did was share a bed.

“Morning,” Tony replies with a smile so warm it could cut through Jotunheimr’s icy core, walking around the kitchen island to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Hope you like goat cheese in your eggs.”

Loki just nods and accepts the plate, following their morning routine in a haze. Tony pours himself an oversized travel mug of coffee as he gets Morgan ready to go to the Lang’s, Scott’s teenage daughter Cassie (who Morgan thinks is  _ the coolest _ ) having agreed to spend some time with her. At the child’s request, Loki fixes her hair into a quick Dutch braid before she hurries out the door, Loki electing to stay behind while Tony drops her off.

“You’re not going to go disappearing on me again, are you?” Tony asks quietly, lingering in the doorway as Morgan skips off to the car.

“I’ll be here,” Loki promises, surprised by his own honesty. He stands on the porch and watches the car disappear down the driveway, fingers warmed by the mug of coffee clasped firmly in his hands.

The house feels empty in more ways than just physical. Perhaps the difference is so drastic because it’s the first time Loki has been alone in the cabin, left without the high energies of Tony and his spitting image. He’s aware of Friday’s omnipotent presence, conversing with her casually as he wanders his way through the rooms he has yet to explore, saving Tony’s for last.

It’s decorated similarly to the rest of the house with a rustic theme, the floor carpeted in this room, his large, four poster bed sitting in a real wooden frame, headboard carved with intricate nature motifs. He can feel that the room was once more full, most likely with Pepper’s belongings, a few places feeling an absence of furniture. He looks at the photos, mostly, noticing that there are no expensive looking paintings in here unlike the rest of the house. While about half of them are of Morgan, or the three of them, there are a surprising amount of the other Avengers. Tony in a cockpit with Carol giving a thumbs up, Tony and Rhodey at a sports game together, sunbathing on the dock with Bruce and Natasha, an arm around Steve outside of the Avengers compound, a selfie with a very annoyed looking Stephen Strange, several with the young Peter and a few featuring his Aunt. There are several other people he doesn’t recognize, but one photo hanging on the wall appears to be a young Tony with his parents. He looks remarkably similar to his father at the age he is now, but his smile undeniably belongs to his mother.

He finds a larger frame face down on the dresser, flipping it over to find it empty. Very curious. He snoops around in the bottoms of dresser drawers and through the closet but comes up empty. A thought occurs to him suddenly, and he double checks that Tony hasn’t gotten back yet before he walks down the hallway to the guest room that Pepper had been using before she moved out.

It’s a plain, guest room now, but Loki finds what he’s looking for in the back of the closet. An unassuming cardboard box that he opens up to find some mementos that don’t hold much significance, until he realizes their company. All wedding photos, or more romantic snapshots of just the two of them. Loki rifles through them as indifferently as possible, finding the photo that looks like it fits the frame. It’s from their wedding, Tony looking dashing as ever in his dark silver tuxedo, Pepper in a simple but beautiful white dress. They’re holding onto each other and laughing. They’re happy.

Loki carries the photo back to Tony’s bedroom, making sure not to crush the corners as he carefully places it back in it’s proper home. He leaves the frame face up just as Friday is announcing her boss’ return.

Tony doesn’t come inside right away, so Loki goes out to meet him. He walks out onto the front porch, seeing Tony’s car, but no sign of the man. He walks around the wrap-around porch to the back deck, having to scan the area for a moment before he spots him.

“What are you doing?” He calls out as he walks down the steps.

Tony is standing out on the lake, about thirty or so feet from the edge of the dock. The surface has mostly frozen over, but further out into the middle, Loki can see where there’s only a thin sheet of ice overtop the deeper parts of the lake. He can see a few cracks around the area Tony is standing in, the shallowness questionable.

“Tony!” He calls out again as he stands at the edge of the lake. “You idiot, come back in from there, it’s barely frozen over!”

His back is to him as he stares out over the lake, hands in his pockets. He turns around to look at Loki, smiling slightly. “Come on, haven't you ever done something like this? Fucked around with your friends to see who could make it out the farthest?”

“Yes, and it usually ended in hypothermia for the less intelligent of my compatriots!” Loki walks down the dock, crossing his arms. “Get back here, Tony, it’s dangerous.”

“Nothing wrong with a little risk!” Tony calls out before he takes another long step, raising his eyebrows at Loki. “Don’t be a chicken! I thought you liked the cold!” He calls back to him teasingly.

Loki swears under his breath and takes off his shoes, leaving them on the dock as he carefully lowers himself onto the surface of the lake. It’s slippery, but his woolen socks give him slightly better grip than the smooth soles of his loafers. “Tony,” he calls out again. “I am not chasing you all the way out there. Come back.”

Tony laughs, still taking careful steps as he navigates over the more solid portions of ice. “You’re no fun!” He calls over his shoulder.

Loki growls in annoyance and picks up his pace as much as he can without compromising the reliability of the ice. He’s a bit more graceful on the slippery surface than Tony, steadily closing the gap.

“What was that about not chasing me?” Tony asks in amusement, turning around to face him now with a grin. He keeps edging backwards, Loki hearing the sound far beneath the surface of ice cracking and separating.

“ _ Tony _ ,” he cautions much more seriously now, coming to a complete standstill, holding his arms out to keep his balance. “Tony, you need to stop.”

“It’s  _ fine _ ,” Tony rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips as he looks down at the ice around him. “Alright, you big worrywart, I’m coming ba—”

Just then, the ice beneath Tony’s feet splits, and he falls through with a splash.

“ _ Tony! _ ” Loki yells, taking off as fast as he can on the dangerous terrain, cantering onto his hands and knees for a better center of gravity. Pain spikes on his palms and knees where they hit the unforgiving ice, Loki ignoring the pain as he uses his momentum to shoot out across the ice, sliding right up to where Tony fell through. He dives into the dark water without a second of hesitation.

Luckily, the water isn’t too deep, and Tony is a good swimmer. However, the temperature and the sudden plunge probably disoriented the man enough to make returning to the small opening he had fallen through fairly difficult. Loki finds him struggling under the ice layers and quickly wraps an arm around his waist. Tony in tow, he shoots back towards the surface, bracing his arm to break through the ice where it’s thinnest.

Their breath crystallizes as they breach the surface, most of the ice broken apart now where Loki had ran across it. Tony’s entire body is wrought with shivers next to him, practically immobile as he vainly tries to help Loki drag him along. They eventually get to a more solid portion of ice, Loki pushing Tony up onto it first before he climbs out after him. They crawl back to solid ground, collapsing next to each other on the frost-covered grass to catch their breath.

“You  _ imbecile _ !” Loki shrieks, smacking the man in the chest. Even  _ he’s _ shivering slightly, pushing his soaking hair back from his face as it begins to clump up and freeze over. “Do you enjoy putting yourself in danger and giving me a heart attack in the process?!”

Tony’s still heaving for air, eyes wide as he stares up at the sky. And then, he begins to laugh.

“Oh, this is  _ funny _ , is it?” Loki asks shrilly. “Would you like me to throw you back in and see how much chuckling you can do with limited air? You could’ve died, you— you—!”

Loki is cut off when Tony pushes himself up onto his elbow, leaning over to press their lips together. Tony’s skin is freezing, his lips blue even after he pulls away. “Nothing like a bit of recklessness to get the heart pumping, right?” He asks with a grin before hauling himself to his feet with a grunt, holding out a hand. “Let’s go warm up. It’s  _ freezing _ out here.”

Loki stares at him in disbelief before grudgingly taking his hand. They walk back to the house, Loki wrapping his arms around Tony to keep him warm despite his anger with the man. “And people call  _ me _ insane.”

The heat of the cabin is a welcome embrace, both of them immediately shedding their outermost layers and dropping the clothes in a soaking heap on the floor. They’re still dripping puddles as they hobble their way up the stairs. When they get to Tony’s bedroom, both of them pause outside of the bathroom.

“There's a shower down the hall if you want to use it,” Tony offers, body still quivering.

Loki scoffs and reaches past him to open the door to the en suite. “I need to make sure you don’t accidentally kill yourself trying to get an adrenaline rush in the tub.”

Tomy grins and shuffles over to the shower, turning on the overhead waterfall. Loki strips out of his remaining layers, shamelessly watching Tony undress as well. It’d been so long since he’s last seen him fully naked, it’s near impossible not to stride across the tile floor and press the man against the glass shower door to ravish him right then and there.

It doesn’t take long for the water to heat up, steam curling across the floor as Tony steps in, glancing at Loki over his shoulder. He takes it as a formal invitation, stepping under the water’s spray after him.

They stand together under the water for a few moments, Tony needing longer than Loki to warm up. Ignoring the discomfort of the quickly growing heat in the room, Loki steps out from underneath the running water, leaning back against the cool tile.

Tony scrubs his hands through his hair, skin beginning to see some color again as the muscle spasms fade. He blinks the water off his eyelashes as he looks over at Loki, his gaze softening. “Sorry if I scared you.”

Loki glances away in irritation, reminding himself that  _ Tony _ of all people knowing he has a heart isn’t such a bad thing. “Yes, well…” He reaches out and takes Tony by the arms, pulling him closer. He buries his nose in his hair, breathing him in, feeling his warmth. “Don’t do it again... You’re far too old for this sort of behavior,” he adds for good measure.

Tony laughs into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. They stay like that for a while, the water hitting Loki’s arms where they’re wrapped around Tony’s waist. “Hey,” Tony pulls back slightly, looking up at him with an earnest gaze. “Can… Can I see?”

Loki doesn’t have to ask for clarification. He sighs and holds Tony at arms length, stepping back underneath the water. He turns the dial as hot as it will go, nearly scalding as it hits his skin. He closes his eyes and concentrates for a few moments, letting the rushing sound of the water act as a white noise to be able to go to the place he needs to go for the Aesir magic to concede.

He doesn’t hear a gasp of horror or sound of disgust as he feels the illusion fade. He blinks open his eyes to find Tony staring at him in something close to a curious wonder.

“Is it okay if I…?” He reaches out with a hand, letting it hover over Loki’s blue chest. Loki nods. He’s more sensitive to temperature in this form, but the heat of the shower is necessary if he doesn’t want to accidentally freeze Tony’s skin. The touch is like fire against him, Tony dragging the tips of his fingers over his skin, catching on the ridges and feeling them curiously. He touches him all over, his neck, shoulders, arms, abdomen, hip. He steps in closer, running his hands up Loki’s spine to illicit a full-bodied shiver.

“I’m afraid you can no longer feign plausible deniability when your friends think me to be a monster,” he says softly, the humor there, but clouded beneath real melancholy.

Tony’s eyes flicker up to his, water rivulets running down his face, caressing his nose and cheeks in all the ways Loki wants to in that moment. “You’re not a monster… You’re… you’re beautiful, actually,” he huffs out a soft laugh, as if the adjective was just as unexpected to him as it is to Loki.

“You aren’t scared?” Loki murmurs in disbelief. He couldn’t be entirely sure as to how Tony would react to seeing him this way. Other than his own family, he’s the only person Loki has ever shown this side of himself to. Then again, Tony is a man who’s never short of surprises.

The corner of Tony’s mouth upticks into a smile. He shakes his head. “I haven’t been scared of you in a long time, Lo.”

He grasps Tony’s face and surges down to kiss him. It’s deep and passionate, nothing like the quickly traded pecks they’ve been getting by with in the past few weeks. It’s like kissing an open flame, Tony licking into his mouth and sliding his arms around his neck to pull himself closer. Loki is hesitant for too much contact between them, already feeling Tony begin to shiver again as he presses up against his freezing skin. He stops Tony’s hand when it travels down his abdomen, grasping his wrist. 

“I can’t— Not like this,” he says in a rush after breaking the kiss, looking away.

“Hey,” Tony says gently, reaching up to cup his face. Loki can’t bring himself to look at him until he’s forced, seeing nothing but compassion in the man’s darkened gaze. “It’s okay.”

Loki’s skin slowly fades back to its usual pallor, embracing the return of a shroud closing in over him as he takes on his Aesir appearance once more, blinking open more palatable, green eyes. Tony pulls him free of the shower, both of them making half-efforts to towel themselves off before they go stumbling back to the bed together.

He lands on the mattress with Tony pinned beneath him, their mouths immediately seeking each other out again. He slots their hips together, feeling Tony’s hardness press against his thigh. Loki rolls his hips, eliciting a groan out of the other man. He feels fingernails dig into his back, teeth dragging over Tony’s jaw and nipping at his earlobe in retaliation.

They’re both eager. Loki can feel it thrumming beneath their skin, heartbeats falling in and out of sync with each other as their bodies press together, neither of them quite ready to pull away to make things progress past the primal urge of  _ closeness  _ they’ve both craved for longer than either of them will admit.

He braces an arm next to Tony’s head, lifting himself enough to snake his other hand down between their hips. Tony’s cock is still wet between his legs, making the slide easy as Loki grasps him and begins slow strokes, knuckles dragging over the trail of dark hair beneath his navel. “Hands up,” he orders softly, pleased when Tony immediately raises his arms above his head, fingers grasping onto one of the pillows behind him. “ _ Good boy _ ,” he murmurs, using the hand by Tony’s head to hold both of his wrists, pinning them in place as he presses a kiss to the corner of the man’s open mouth. “Now let me hear those pretty sounds.”

Loki had dreamt about this moment during the infuriatingly long months he spent away from Tony, his subconscious still chasing after the ideas that had come from one night spent together in his bedroom in Asgard. Things had seemed so simple then— Had he really been so blind to his own desires? Back then he thought of Tony as nothing more than a mortal plaything to fuck just for the pure satisfaction that he  _ could _ , and that Tony  _ wanted  _ him so ardently, despite all of his flaws. He was just meant to be another conquest, another trophy, another obstacle laid to waste in the wake of his ambition.

The sounds pouring out of Tony are intoxicating. Loki times his strokes just right to illicit the best responses out of the man beneath him, drunk off of the desperate pleading that falls freely from his mouth. He can’t decide where to let his eyes settle, every little part of Tony’s body mesmerizing to watch. His reddened, parted lips, the bow of his back as his hips rise up off the bed to try and thrust into Loki’s fist, the flex of his arms as he pushes against the god’s hold with no real desire to escape. He’s beautiful, body still warm and flushed from the shower, practically glowing in the dim lighting of the room, only a little bit of soft daylight filtering through the heavy curtains.

It’s nothing like the first time. No longer motivated by dominance and cruelty, everything Loki does is to bring Tony pleasure first, his own needs coming second. Teeth that had once sank into the human’s supple flesh, unforgiving, now scrape along his collarbone and down to his nipple in the way that he knows drives Tony wild. He slows his strokes and grips the base of Tony’s erection not as punishment, but as a reminder that neither of them want this to end too quickly. Keeping Tony’s arms pinned above him would’ve once been a play for control, forcing the man to feel powerless beneath him. Now, it’s born out of trust that Loki will be the one to take care of all his needs, no reciprocation necessary beyond the reward of bringing Tony pleasure.

He coats his fingers with conjured lubrication, too impatient to bother asking Tony where he keeps his supplies. He lets Tony’s cock lay flat against his stomach, looking down between them to watch his shaft twitch as he slides wet fingers over his sac and down to his hole. He easily slides one finger inside, Tony grasping out as he lifts his hips further, Loki refusing to relinquish his hold on the other man’s wrists just yet.

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” Loki pants against Tony’s cheek as he slides a second finger inside, beginning to fuck him in earnest with his hand alone. “The things you make me want to do to you— The things you’ve made me  _ feel  _ like no other—” He buries his face in the man’s neck, rolling his hips against the crease of Tony’s thigh to get some kind of relief to his own aching member. “Fuck—  _ Tony _ —”

“I want you,” Tony gasps out, a high keening noise tearing its way from his throat as Loki’s fingers twist just right inside of him. “All of you. Loki, I need it— Please—”

He kisses Loki again, stealing the air from his lungs. Time seems to stop in that instant, Loki lost in a moment as tender as a kiss when their intimacy has gone so far beyond that. He releases Tony’s arms, dropping his hand down to cup the man’s jaw as their tongues slide together.

In his need to have Tony relinquish his control, he didn’t realize just how much he had robbed himself of the other man’s touch. Now free, Tony’s hands come to frame Loki’s face, fingers sliding into his still damp hair. It’s tender and loving, the way his nails scrape along his scalp, pushing his hair away from his face, letting his touch linger along the sensitive nape of his neck. His other hand slides over his ribs, stroking his flank lovingly before his grip digs into his back, his hips lifting up off the bed to give Loki the best possible angle.

Tony’s heartbeat is so loud it’s practically like thunder in his ears, Loki pressing his face into the man’s neck once more to mouth covetously against that jumping pulse. Tony’s lips press lovingly against where his jaw meets his ear, whispering incoherent, lust-driven praise as he thrusts his fingers in and out of him, curling them against his prostate.

“Please— God— Loki, I just— Fuck, I love you. I love you so fucking much—”

“I know, I know, I know,” Loki moans, mouth watering as he draws his fingers out of the other man, feeling Tony’s muscles tighten around him in protest. Practically having to tear himself away from the supine body beneath him, Loki plants a hand on Tony’s chest, pushing himself up to kneel between his legs long enough to guide his throbbing length inside of him. Tony lifts his hips, Loki taking one ankle in hand to hoist his leg over his shoulder, Tony’s other leg coming up to keep Loki pinned firmly in place, heel digging into his lower back. 

Their eyes meet for a moment, Loki feeling something burst in his chest as one corner of Tony’s mouth quirks up in a smile. It’s not cocky, nor smug, nor even sensual. It’s just pure  _ Tony _ , a small smile reserved just for Loki, in this exact moment, unable to be contained. He kisses the inside of Tony’s knee and leans forward, practically folding the man in half as he lines himself up. 

“You have all of me, Tony. Everything,” He promises, pressing their foreheads together as he slowly pushes all the way inside, both of them moaning as he sinks in. Tony is tight and warm and  _ everything  _ that Loki remembered and hasn’t stopped thinking about since the first time. He’s  _ real _ . “My mind, my heart—” He moans openly as he feels himself bottom out, Tony’s muscles clenching around him. “It’s  _ yours _ ,” he gasps desperately, pulling out just to snap his hips forward again, Tony crying out beneath him. “I’m yours. I’m yours— All of me— Yours, Tony—” he repeats it like a mantra, voice breaking on the confession, practically drowned out by Tony’s choked off moans.

Loki didn’t see his face last time. At the time, he hadn’t felt any desire to; They were just bodies seeking pleasure from one another. This time, seeing the look in Tony’s eyes as he comes, burning amber glazed over with unbridled pleasure and warm devotion, Loki doesn’t want to miss it ever again. He lifts a hand to catch the tears that spill out of the corners of his eyes as they squeeze shut, thumb caressing his cheek as he follows Tony right over that edge, pressing their open mouths together once more.

The orgasm hits him like a freight train. He scrabbles for purchase, one hand fisting in the sheets while the other grasps Tony’s calf so tightly he’s almost afraid he’ll snap the bone with the force he bears down onto him with. He pumps his hips desperately, fucking Tony through both of their orgasms as he buries a dry sob into the mortal’s shoulder. He rolls his hips through the wave of his climax, just as physically overwhelmed as Tony as he feels his own tears slip free and roll down his nose.

They stay like that for a while, drifting somewhere between reality and their own personal form of Valhalla, ethereal as they cling to each other, chests heaving in time against one another. Loki doesn’t pull out until the afterglow passes in its entirety, a low whine rumbling in Tony’s throat as he shifts in discomfort beneath him.

Loki rolls both of them onto their sides, a shared moan passing between them when his softened cock slips free. Loki blinks his eyes open to find Tony staring at him, gaze surprisingly intense despite the blissed out expression on his face. Without breaking eye contact, Loki leans in slowly, lips not quite touching as he takes a shaky hand and slides it down Tony’s hip, groping his ass for a moment before he slips two fingers inside. It earns him the exact reaction he wanted, a quiet moan slipping free from Tony’s lips despite his exhaustion. He’s gentle as he drags his fingers around Tony’s rim, feeling the mess of his come as it drips slowly out of him, teasing that tight ring of muscle.

“ _ Loki _ ,” Tony moans, turning his face into the pillow. “Oh my god, you’re going to kill me,” he says, muffled.

A deep, sated chuckle rumbles in his chest as he continues to dip just the tips of his fingers inside of him, relishing this new feeling that’s buzzing around beneath his skin. “I certainly hope not. What a waste that would be…” He pulls his fingers free and brings his hands up between them, gaze darkening as Tony lifts his head enough to look at him. He licks his lips before parting them ever so slightly, allowing Loki to rest the pads of his fingers against his bottom lip, dragging them back and forth. Slowly, he slides his fingers into Tony’s mouth, feeling his tongue wrap around them, tasting Loki’s seed that’s still leaking out of him. He hollows out his cheeks, gazing at Loki behind half-lowered lids.

Loki hisses, feeling his over sensitive cock attempt to take interest again, a little too soon even for his own, superior refractory period. “ _ Tease _ ,” he growls, watching Tony smirk around his fingers. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?” he purrs before pulling his fingers free, summoning enough energy to push himself up, rolling Tony onto his stomach and crawling down the bed to put himself between his legs. He parts Tony’s thighs with both hands, hoisting him up by the hips so that he can clean him up properly.

Neither of them notice anything has changed until later that evening. Loki feels quite foolish for it, but to his own credit, Tony is  _ very  _ distracting. They take another shower, Loki ending up in a not so comfortable position laid out on his back on the shower floor, deciding that the reward of Tony riding his cock made it worth the trouble. They eventually tear themselves away from the bedroom to feed themselves, the meal going cold when Loki decides that the sight of Tony in an apron and nothing else demands for him to be hoisted up onto the counter and fucked with immediacy.

They’re laying in bed together, Loki on his back, almost ready to drift off with the warm comfort of a naked Tony curled against his side, when the weight suddenly jolts away from him.

“ _ Holy shit _ . Loki.”

“Hmm?” he grunts sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Loki,  _ look _ .”

“I cannot. My life force is drained. You sucked it right out of my—”

“ _ Fucking hell, Loki _ — Look at my arm!”

He opens his eyes, blinking until Tony comes into focus. He’s sitting up next to him in bed, holding out his right arm.

The mark is gone.

Loki shoots into a sitting position himself, lifting his arm from beneath the sheets to affirm what he already knows. Perfect, unmarred, pale skin. He stares for a long moment, gaze moving from his forearm, to Tony’s, up to the man’s shocked face.

“It was me,” Tony breathes in realization.

“It was you,” Loki confirms softly. He reaches out and caresses the tender skin of Tony’s forearm, no longer branded with his promise. “My last, remaining threat.”

Tony’s dark eyes flicker down to their unmarked arms resting side by side, a line creasing between his eyebrows. “You knew?”

Loki sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, pushing the knotted curls away from his face. “I… I had a feeling. I couldn’t know for certain, but the longer things went on… I realized that the only thing that still made me vulnerable… was you.”

The silence is heavy between them. Tony frowns, looking back up at him. “I don’t understand… You said the magic is innate. I knew how I felt about you. I knew I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Loki sighs, “It’s a two-way street, remember? You may have known that, but… I didn’t,” his eyes fall to their hands, Loki flipping his palm to slide along Tony’s, grasping his arm the same way he had when his motivations had been so very different, and the man next to him was little more than a stranger to him. “You may have been willing to admit your love to me, but I had to learn how to  _ accept  _ it… and know that you would accept me. All of me…” He lifts his gaze once more, lips curving into a wry smile. “Magic has a funny way of finding our deepest weaknesses.”

Tony’s gaze softens. He twines their fingers together and lifts them to his mouth, kissing Loki’s pale knuckles and resting his lips there. He then twists their hands, releasing him and clasping their little fingers together, much in the way they both do with Morgan whenever she requests it.

“Repeat after me,” Tony says with a smile. “I, Loki, Son of Laufey…”

Loki rolls his eyes. “That isn’t how it works, Tony. The Pact has to be enacted with very specific—”

“Screw The Pact. Screw all that stupid, anicent, hocus-pocus shit. This is for  _ us _ ,” Tony smirks. “Now shut up and repeat after me. I, Loki, Son of…  _ Frigga _ .”

He sighs loudly, his attempt to look put-off foiled by the uncontrollable smile that Tony’s personal amendment brings him. “I, Loki, Son of Frigga.”

“Promise you, Anthony Edward Stark, bound by the all powerful, Midgardian pinkie swear…”

“Promise you, Anthony Edward Stark, bound by the _ silly little _ Midgardian pinkie swear…”

“That I will stay here on Midgard with you, and not do any sort of terrorizing to mortals beyond the occasional prank on Steve because there are times when he totally deserves it and it’s hilarious. I will continue to pretend like I barely tolerate the presence of the Avengers, when in all actuality, I’m kind of doing great with all of them— including Peter, which makes Tony very happy. I’ll stick around to braid Morgan’s hair, and help her with homework, and tell her stories when she asks, and listen to her rattle off on her tangents and interests, all the while pretending I’m resistant to her charms,” Tony smiles at him then, and it’s like looking directly into the sun. “I promise to love you, Tony Stark, even though I make fun of your grey hair and the way you talk to your robots. I promise to make sure you don’t stay holed up in the garage and forget to eat, to always be there when you wake up from a nightmare, and to put you in your place when you’re being a stubborn ass because it takes one to know one…” His smile softens a bit, and Loki leans into him for a quick kiss, keeping their foreheads together as Tony finishes the vow. “But, most importantly, I promise to not be so hard on myself, and accept that I’m worthy of love, and that you don’t have to be a hero to be considered  _ good _ .”

Loki repeats it all back to him, finding that, for once, he means every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I love this as an ending to our boys, anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for an epilogue. I might take a bit of a break before posting it, but until then, this is still a pretty nice stopping point for the fic as a whole. I'll save the real sappy authors notes for whenever I post that epilogue.
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone for the kudos and the amazing comments that have just made my entire life. I've got a couple more frostiron fics up my sleeve (Pacific Rim and royalty AUs, anyone?) so if you liked this fic, you can definitely be expecting some more from me soon.
> 
> <3
> 
> EDIT 8/27/20: I haven't forgotten about this epilogue I swear!! My life has been taken over by some other things right now, but I've been slowly chipping away at what used to be a small epilogue for this fic, and has now sort of turned into it's own little oneshot. I'll be posting that seperately when it's finished, but as a part of this Verse.


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